


The Reddest Rose

by FizzyLemon



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Magic, Retelling, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FizzyLemon/pseuds/FizzyLemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle stared up at the figure in horror, falling back over a broken marble bench. She'd meant to be brave. She'd meant to not cry. Yet tears streamed down her cheeks and tremors took her body. She'd done this for her father. The minute he crawled in through the front door coughing and retching with fear, she knew she'd be giving something up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This retelling of Beauty and the Beast will be a mixture of The Little Broomstick (Germany), Beauty & The Beast (France) and Beauty & The Beast (Disney). I love to add my own twist to classic stories.

She woke to the sound of an explosion. It jarred her from a beautiful, golden dream of a magnificent garden and sent her stumbling toward the window. She was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she pushed the yellowed curtains aside and wrenched open the window. Another explosion rocked the cottage, and for the briefest of moments she considered what being an orphan would be like. Then her father stumbled up from the cellar, baptized in the smoke of his latest flawed invention. "Papa!" She cried, relief flooding her tone with joy. "Papa, what on earth are you doing?"

Her door opened with a slam. "You know he's making something to ruin us even  _more_ ," Said her elder sister Laura, tossing her heavy blonde hair over one shoulder. While somewhat jealous of her sister's fine looks, it wasn't a hassle to go without what it took to get them. She draped herself in the finest fabrics, which was a pretty penny in itself, but of course she right out demanded it to be dyed in the most ridiculous of colors. Blood reds and ruby, even a few in deep purple and lapis.

Pauline swept in behind her, Laura's twin in everything but age. Thankfully she was a tad more resigned, and while she took whatever styles Laura insisted she wear, she clung to earthier greens and yellows. With skillful fingers she began an elaborate twist and finished it off with Laura's typical red ribbon, all the while her eldest sister stepped closer to the window to peer down at their father. "He is making a fool of this family. I don't know why you encourage him, little sister. You're almost as bad as he is," Pauline nodded in agreement.

"Laura, you promised to introduce me to that handsome man you met last week! I even got up early. Aren't we going?" She crossed her arms and pouted, her full lips pursing in the prettiest of ways. "Or must we invite Belle? Look at her, she's still in her shift!"

"Thank you, but no. I have a few things to do around the farm first. Papa looks like he needs a bit of help," Her sisters left quickly, leaving her to wash and tie up her own long hair. She preferred being alone with their father. When he worked as a merchant seeing him was a rare occurrence. As a child the stories he brought were more valuable than the treats. The small women with the voices as sharp as bells, who gifted him with tea and skeins of silk were as fascinating as the lizards he returned with from the deserts. Then someone in London had gone on to tell him all about  _inventions_  and how wonderfully  _creative_  he could be and, well, he hadn't set foot on a ship since.

She ran her hands over her few dresses, her fingers catching on almost half a dozen holes. A few of his toys had taken off, but hadn't earned more than would feed them and their horses. Belle pulled her favorite dress, one of the softest wool in the lightest of blues, and frowned at several large holes on the front. She pulled it over her shift and found a clean apron to hide the damage, then slipped on a pair of stiff black shoes. Belle made it out to the barn just as her sisters did, their faces made up almost beyond recognition.

"Papa, you cannot sell the blue carriage! How else are we to get into town? It's nearly five miles! Do you mean us to take the black?" Laura pressed a hand to her heaving chest and Belle hid a smile. Admitting it had been her idea was the last thing on her -

"Darling, Belle suggested it," The look her sister cast her way would have frozen the fire in the hearth. "It would keep us from having to sell all the horses. I know the blue carriage was your mother's but it shall fetch a higher price!" Her father was not a strong or willful man. His back was bent with the demands of his daughters, and when their mother had been around it had bent beneath hers as well. His grey hair and liver spotted hands made him look much older than his fifty years, and the cough he was developing wasn't eased by his experiments. Belle gave her father a kiss on the cheek and slipped around him to Philippe's stall. The large horse stomped one foot and nudged her shoulder, seeking out a treat. She stroked his mane as her family argued.

"So you're truly going to sell it?" Pauline asked, stepping up with a smile. "Could you bring me back a new skein of fabric for a gown? Or a new corset?"

"Of course, I'll have enough money to bring you all back -"

"Oh Papa, why didn't you say something? I know exactly what I'd like!"

And that was that. Belle looked on as her father was set upon by demand after demand, all with him promising again and again that he could certainly bring it back for them. Her heart sunk to her toes as her sisters climbed into the blue carriage for one last trip and left for town, their smaller white horses in the lead. Her father sadly trudged back into the cottage while she finished her chores, mucking out the stall and adding fresh hay to the cool earth floor. She tended to her garden, pulling weeds and pruning roses until her fingertips were raw and the skin on the back of her neck was pink.

"Father, will selling the blue carriage be enough?" She inquired, bringing in an apron full of eggs from the chickens and wild mushrooms from where they clucked about. Her deep brown eyes were troubled as they focused on her dirty hands. "I suppose you would be taking Nieve with you, she does make it look quite beautiful," She stepped outside to wash her hands and returned to find her father slicing the mushrooms. A black pot filled with water hung over the fire, and after a sniff tossed in a fistful of dried basil swinging just above her head.

"I hope it should. I may return to being a merchant," He tossed the mushrooms into the pot and added a bit of salt. Belle countered with leeks and a bit of salted beef they had left, as well as half a dozen chopped potatoes. "An old acquaintance of mine says that a ship is coming into port with a load I may take on. I may return us to the wealth we once enjoyed," He patted her hand and made his way upstairs while Belle made work on a set of savory cakes to go along with the soup. After serving a late breakfast to her father and some for herself, the two made quick work of the rest of the chores. The beds were aired, clothes were washed, floors were scrubbed to shining. Her father retreated back to the cellar with promises of no more explosions. She exercised Philippe with a quick gallop across the meadow, pausing to gather more wild mushrooms and several bunches of wild flowers to decorate the interior of their comfortable home.

It was while she was out on the meadow that the bells tolled. The wonderful, marvelous bells that no one could place. They rang out through the valley and even the birds seemed to pause in their song. They were sweet, yet somber, and if she listened hard enough she was sure she could actually hear singing. It took everything in her to not lie down and waste the day away there. Still she dawdled, and plucked a bouquet of wildflowers while Philippe grazed. By the time she returned home, the blue carriage was in its place and she could hear the peals of her sisters' laughter from inside. What she didn't expect was the rich baritone that joined them. She led Philippe back into his stable and gave him a quick brushing, eying a strange black horse suspiciously. Who was their guest?

"Papa, I'm home. Did you invite someone from...the village?" His black hair was pulled tight at the nape of his neck. It gave her a perfect view of his hard, square jaw and the hypnotizing blue eyes that moved between her sisters. While his face was shaved clean, as smooth as her own even, a bit of dark hair peeked at her from his tightly buttoned shirt. Thick cords of muscle roped his bare arms. If not for the fact that he had a pair of disgusting boots on the table her father had built, she would have welcomed the company. Her father was not in the room, but both of her sisters were seated comfortably with the stranger.

"Oh, Gaston this is our little sister. Belle, Gaston came to call on us today. We met him in town and he was so  _fascinated_  with Papa's inventions that he came right over!" He stood then, towering so far over her she had to crane her neck to look up at him. He stepped forward and lifted one of her limp, burning hands to his lips and graced it with a kiss. Belle blushed so furiously that Pauline nudged the back of her knee with one pointed shoe.

"Belle..." The way he rolled her name across his tongue had her smiling. "You are as beautiful as your name. Your father tells me you were the one who prepared our supper?"

She glanced at the empty soup pot, with a myriad of dishes stacked beside it, and nodded. "Yes, I hope you enjoyed it."

"Very much. I've seen your sisters in the village many times before, but never you. You don't join them, cherie?" He led her to a seat then took his own again, but he didn't kick her feet up onto the table. She took the opportunity to reach forward and wipe the surface clean.

"No, my Papa has so much he's working on that I take care of the cottage." She smoothed her dirty skirt over her knees and crossed her ankles. "Things used to be different, but I act as the woman of the house now." The moment she said it she wished she'd held her tongue. Laura's cheeks had gone red and her lips were pressed so tightly together they may have actually disappeared for a moment. A second later however, and Laura's trill laughter rang through the house.

"You? The woman of the house? Belle, sometimes I think you forget you're the youngest. It's good that you stay to help Papa. The lady of the house certainly wouldn't. Mama never did. Now, as the true  _woman_  of the house I'm asking you to take care of this mess. Won't you clean it up?" She waved her hand at the mess and Belle eagerly complied. She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and tried hard not to feel Gaston's eyes on her. She'd never had this type of attention from any man before and she wasn't sure if she wanted it.

He stayed for well over an hour, the end of which time she'd settled into her favorite chair with a hefty book. She was lost in her thoughts when Gaston abruptly plucked the book from her hands. "You read?" He asked scornfully, flipping through the pages so fast he almost tore them from the spine. "What for? There's no purpose to it." Belle felt her eyebrows pulling together into a glare. Was he...insulting her? If nothing else he was insulting her favorite book and that was just as bad. She opened her mouth to reply, but only managed a strangled gasp as he tossed the book behind him and onto the table. The spine hit one corner before tumbling to the floor with a loud thump. Laura and Pauline giggled.

"Oh Gaston, don't tease. She has such a love of her books that I fear she forgets she doesn't live in them." Laura said, coming up to take his arm. "Please don't let our boorish sister turn you away. Next time we'll have a lovely cake, and if you can bring a nice stag I'll have her roast it for you. She is good for cooking and mending if not company." Laura cast a scornful frown over her shoulder as she walked Gaston out to the stable and Belle retrieved her book.

She couldn't help the tears that welled up in her eyes as she gently took the book up to her room. Laura was right. She didn't live in her books, but she wanted to. She wanted to more than anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Belle woke still clothed, with her precious book cradled in her arms. The sun was barely peeking into her bedroom but she could already hear a commotion downstairs. Her father was exclaiming something, and the excited trills of her sisters meant they were up much earlier than usual. Having still half a pitcher of fresh water to wash up with, she cleaned her arms and face before loosening her hair and brushing it out. She tied it up once more, this time in a tight bun that she covered with a bit of scrap cloth. She planned on doing a thorough mucking out of the stables, and the last time she'd done that it had taken weeks to get all of the hay out of her hair. Ignoring the fact that her clothes were a day old and unchanged, she hurried downstairs.

"Belle! You'll never believe the news Papa just got! We're going to be rich again!" Laura was hardly dressed for the day. Yet even in only her shift she looked the figure of perfection, with her hair tumbling down around her shoulders and a smile wide enough to light up heaven.

"Did you come upon money?" Her father sat at their kitchen table with a letter in his hand and a nervous smile on his face. She took a seat next to him and he held it out to her, smiling as his eldest daughter danced around the cottage with Pauline, the two of them declaring all the wonderful things they would soon have. "This friend...he says one of your ships survived? We have goods to sell?" Her father nodded as she looked it over. "It says to come as soon as possible. Do you leave soon?" When she met his eyes, she was startled to see tears there.

"Yes. I just wanted to wait for you to waken. I could never go without telling you." He pushed himself up from the table and kissed the top of her head. "We will certainly have all we once did. I know it has been hard, but I promise things will go easier for us now. Tell me daughters, what would you like me to bring you from the cities?" It seemed that was the end of the calm. Her sisters erupted into lists that stretched miles long. Jewelry and hair pins and gowns and silk. They asked for chocolates and champagne and for the carriage to receive fresh paint. Laura demanded a new pair of dancing shoes and a skirt hemmed in gold. Pauline wanted makeup and ribbons and a new lace bodice. She wanted cows for fresh milk and a kitten to play with.

"What is it you want, Belle?" Her father asked as he mounted Phillipe. He would fasten his goods to the horse and hopefully sell most of it before returning. She patted the horse's rump and smiled sadly up at her father. Far away the bells tolled, and they merely echoed the feeling of concern growing in her chest. Laura and Pauline left not long after Belle made breakfast, eager to tell everyone in the village about their father's good fortune. They'd put on their best things, which were already much too fine for such simple people. Why they'd requested gold and silks was beyond her. Couldn't they be happy with their lives?

"I want you to come home safely, Papa. Nothing more." Her father adjusted his riding gloves and smiled, sitting a little straighter in the saddle. Belle spent her morning packing a hefty satchel of food and drink, and repairing the few holes in his finer clothes. He'd been handsome as a merchant, and now without his daily coating of soot and metal shavings she could see it again. It was easy to see why her mother had fallen in love with him.

"Three things, Belle." Her father said, suddenly pulling her from her thoughts. "Tell me three things you wish and I shall bring them to you."

"Your health to be well," She said after a moment. "Phillipe to carry you safely home..." She thought for a moment as she stroked the steed. "And the first rose to strike your hat on the way home. I'll plant it outside the door and encourage a plant to grow, just like Mother did." She couldn't let her father see her cry. He'd been gone so many times before - why should this be any different? "I'll keep things working properly, Papa. Go quickly and return faster." She kissed his cheek as he rode down the lane, hoping he wouldn't turn around and see the sadness in her eyes.

It took close to an hour for Phillipe's stall to begin looking presentable. By then the day had grown warm, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her arms and face. What wasn't covered by the cloth over her hair was full of dust and hay. Her hands ached from gripping the pitchfork and her knees were bruised from scrubbing the stone floor. Her fingers were red and raw from the mixture of boiling water and lye she'd used to clean it all with. "Fresh straw is all it needs." She said as she surveyed her work. With her father gone for at least a week, she had the opportunity to air out his bedding, but that would require clean hands.

Who knew when her sisters would be home? She had to take as much advantage of this time as she could. She changed her soiled apron for a clean one, but after realizing how much filthy laundry there was she changed from her fathers bedding to the clothing of the household. She wrapped armfuls in sheets and skirts, then carried the lot of it down the hill to where a crisp, cool spring ran. She slipped free of her shoes and stockings, and stepped into the bubbling water. It was so cold her toes curled, but the pleasure of it made her laugh. Soon she was singing and humming and scrubbing the dirt from the clothes. It was enjoyable to say the least, and the water washed away the filth from the barn.

"Madame Belle! Do not tell me this land is your family's property as well?" The voice was low, familiar. She spun at the sound of the rich baritone.

"Monsieur Gaston! It is." She shaded her eyes to look up at him and saw the stag lying on the rump of his enormous horse. The beast pawed the earth and snorted. "You were hunting here?" She noticed only then the gun slung around his back, and the smaller man that rode at his side on a smaller horse. It was dappled gray with too small eyes and a crooked back, and seemed to suit the oddly built man well. It looked like his jacket was straining to hold in his gut, and while he had the face of a boy (save for an extremely large nose) he had the posture of a much older man.

"My companion, LeFou," He said dismissively. "Yes, I was. The surrounding forest is ripe with creatures eager to be slain." He led the horse up to the creek side and smiled down at her. "If you invite me and my companion for a late meal, I'll more than happily give you this kill to make it with." He lifted the head of the deer and seemed more than able to ignore the blood it left on his hand.

"Thank you, Gaston, but no. I must refuse. My Papa has gone to the city. I would be happy to permit you to hunt here, if you give us a share of your bounty. I'll take one of those quail you have strung beside the deer." She held out one hand expectantly and managed a smile, although she felt sure his eyes were boring through her sopping wet dress. What exactly was he doing here? Her father's land was known by everyone in the village - they didn't have much, but they at least had that. Had Gaston  _known_  it was their land and come to hunt anyway? What sort of person would do that without permission?

"Your sisters didn't tell me how funny you were, Belle." He laughed, pulling the reigns to force his mount away. "I'll come to join you and your sisters for supper this evening. The deer will be waiting for you." With that he was gone, leaving her sputtering in the stream. How  _dare_  he! He had to be aware of the lack of propriety! Without her father present, how would it be seen in a good light? She furiously finished washing the clothes and laid them out to dry alongside the bank. She napped beside the clothes until the sun grew hot enough to bring out the cicadas, who screamed higher with the heat. She carried home the dried skirts and blankets and aprons, and hung them in the bedrooms to pull out the wrinkles at a later time. True to his word, Gaston left the stag just inside. He'd relieved it of its head, and a pool of bright red blood circled its throat. He'd been kind enough to leave it on the floor beside the hearth, and thankfully flies had not yet gathered.

By the time her sisters returned from the village, accompanied by Gaston, she was changed and clean, and the deer was roasting. Some of it she'd shoved into a barrel of salt, which she then tucked into the basement to dry. She'd found a bottle of wine that hadn't cost too much and added it to their meal. When the quartet walked in she met them with a smile. "Bonjour! Supper is ready. You had a fine day in the village, Laura?" Her sister was clutching Gaston's arm like her life depended on it, and Pauline was scowling at the attention LeFou was giving her. The little man snorted when he laughed, and Belle couldn't help smiling.

"Belle, I was just telling your sisters how funny you were today. The deer smells delicious. I can't wait to sink my teeth into it." He looked her up and down as he said the words, and she couldn't help but shudder.

"Well then, please, help yourselves. I have bread ready as well." She said, bringing out a small collection of dishes from a cupboard. Laura and Pauline sat themselves around their dining table, LeFou gracing both with her presence, and Belle didn't notice Gaston wasn't still with them until she felt his hand on her waist. She stiffened as he leaned forward and lifted five ceramic bowls from her hands.

"You are not married, how can this be? You cook and bake and keep a house..."

She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks at his closeness, and quickly slipped away from him. In one smooth move she had plucked the dishes from his grip and removed herself as well. "I haven't found the right man yet, sir."

"Don't let her fool you, Gaston. Our sister means to be a spinster if there was ever anyone who truly was." Laura had poured herself a generous glass of wine and finished more than half of it. "She lives for her books and for  _love_. Soon we shall have the money to pursue such silly things." Belle quietly served her sisters and then their guests, allowing them to take over the conversation.

She then tried very hard to ignore the attention of Gaston.

Throughout the meal he encouraged conversation with her - then teased or mocked her opinions.

He made to hold her hand or slip an arm around her shoulders - then grew angry when she slipped free or laughed him away.

By the end of the evening she was red in the face and not from the wine. Laura had gone to retrieve a second bottle halfway through their meal, but Belle had gone without. It was appalling. Her sisters were mindless flirts, and Gaston made himself so comfortable his shoes were once more on the table. LeFou was making a  _Le Fool_  of himself and eventually she'd had enough. "I'm sorry, but I am very tired. I had a terribly long day. Enjoy your wine." She took a book from its shelf near the door.

"Stay, Belle! You are our hostess, aren't you?" Gaston stood and plucked the book from her hands, intending to throw it aside. Her hands reached out even more quickly to yank it back. "Belle, drink with us. Dine with us. You've prepared such a marvelous meal!"

Belle frowned. "No thank you, it really is late." As if on cue the bells rang again, signalling the latest part of the evening. "It's midnight, Monsieur. I truly think the meal has gone long enough. Perhaps you should be on your way."

The laughter at the table quieted before Laura stood and swayed towards her and Gaston, narrowing her eyes as she looked down on her younger sister. "True, midnight is late. It is the darkest part of the night. Almost too dark to ride home..."

"No, we will go." Gaston said sharply. "I shall see you sometime in the village, Belle. Next time perhaps, I shall call on you through your father." He kissed the back of her hand and nodded. "We'll see if you turn me away then."


	3. Chapter 3

For several weeks Gaston's attention grew and focused. It began with a hand at her back that had no place there. Several days later his fingers tangled with her own when she reached for the reigns of her he was cornering her as she exited the bookstore, or following a few strides too closely as she took a long path home. Several times he'd demanded a kiss hello or goodbye, and once he'd gotten very close to stealing one. Except, it wasn't teasing. If it had been, she might have teased back. No, the green-hued and fading bruises on her arms declared Gaston's true intentions. It had gotten to the point that she was concerned for her own well being. She prayed her father would return soon to relieve her of these unwelcome advances.

Yet the weeks passed...and passed again...and then the months...and still there was no sign of him.

It was fear of encountering Gaston that had her home on Christmas Eve, rather than celebrating with her sisters at the tavern. She'd lit candles and made a thick cider to lull herself to sleep. Outside the wind howled. Her sisters would undoubtedly seek a night with their friends in the village, and their horse would be warm and dry in their stable. She'd curled herself into her father's chair with a book, and let her hair tangle free around her shoulders. She was relaxed, she was almost asleep... Then her father tumbled in through the door she'd left unlatched. The wind howled at his back, and pushed a flurry of snow over her clean floors. He coughed and retched as he dragged himself inside, away from the fury of the storm. Belle overturned a table in her hurry to get to him, her book discarded and forgotten in the slush that had gotten inside. "Papa!" She pushed the door closed and dragged a second log onto the hearth. On the floor her father shook and coughed, sending phlegm and spittle flying from his mouth. His cheeks were sunken, his skin sallow and icy to the touch.

What had happened to him? She dragged him closer to the fire and stripped away his filthy, wet outer layers. It was only then that she realized just how bruised and cold he was. There was a strong possibility that he would lose his toes. She forced hot cider down his throat and pulled the blankets from the beds to nest him. It was several hours before his trembling stopped, but she couldn't possibly risk going into the village to fetch the doctor. She treated him as she had the calf they'd once found laid in the snow, its skin mostly blue and almost as stiff as a new book spine. She warmed him and fed him once he was willing to take food, and by the time the sun rose he had some color back in his cheeks.

"Papa," She breathed a sigh of relief as he stirred, stroking the thick growth of hair around his jaw. "Papa, where have you been?"

"B-belle?" It took him a minute to focus his gaze on her, and when he had she was horrified to see the glaze of tears. "Belle, I've done the most terrible thing." He pushed himself from the chair and waved away her help. "No, no, I have to...I have to think. Oh Belle, you can never forgive me." He walked upstairs as though each step was thousands of miles high, and she thought for sure his trembling would send him right back down again. She brought him tea and soup, which he thankfully ate and drank, but he said barely two words to her. Only when she went back upstairs to tell him her sisters were home did he show any sign of interest.

"Papa's home? Why didn't he write to us? We would have been here to meet him!" Laura said with a scowl, unpinning her curls from the loose bun they'd been confined to.

"He wasn't in any shape to, I don't think. He was half dead when he crawled in the door. I nearly died of shock myself," Belle shot back, her fist forcing a bubble of air from the ball of dough she kneaded. She pulled and twisted it into a braid which she then placed into the stone oven set atop the fire they had blazing.

"Did he say anything of the money? Or the dresses?" Pauline asked, licking a bit of jam from her little finger. Both girls had entered the house famished beyond all reason (according to Laura) and Belle was making certain their father would hear none of their complaints.

"No, because there isn't any." All three girls whirled to find their father swaying in the doorway, his hands clutching an ornately carved, dark wood box. It was Laura and Pauline who ushered him to a seat. "There was a ship, which I'd meant to purchase. It struck the rocks and sank, taking anything of value with it. Including the lives of the crew, and that of a dear friend of mine. I looked for any work in the city but found none. I couldn't possibly sell Phillipe, and that seemed to be all anyone was interested in, so I started for home."

Belle poured a mug of cider and shoved in a hot poker so that it steamed, then passed it to him. He set the box on the table and took the mug from her. "When was that, Papa?"

His eyes looked distant. "What is the day?"

"Well...it's Christmas, Papa."

He slumped back into the chair. "Months ago, my daughter. It was before the snow set in." A cough stopped him and shook his shoulders. When he was finally able to breathe again, he spoke. "I was riding home when I remembered what you'd wanted Belle, a rose. Just a simple rose. I couldn't buy even that for you. So I started searching for one. Suddenly there were...there were wolves. And the rain. Phillipe could barely run and I could barely see and then...suddenly we were in a courtyard." He took in a shuddering breath. "All I could smell were flowers, but I couldn't see them. I found a stable with a locking door and put Phillipe there for the night, and I...I went in search of help." He lowered his head into his hands.

"I thought I would find shelter there for the night," He said imploringly, as though looking for justification. Laura stood near the doorway, her arms crossed under her chest. Pauline sat beside their father with one hand on his shoulder, and Belle had taken her usual place at his feet. He put a hand on her head. "When I reached the door, I saw it was open, but though I shouted, nobody came to greet me. I went inside, still calling out to attract attention. The rain was turning to sleet. On a table in the main hall, a splendid dinner lay already served. It was more than we've seen in a year." He swallowed hard. "I lingered, still shouting for the owner of the castle. But no one came, and so I sat down to a hearty meal. Overcome by curiosity, I ventured upstairs, where the corridor led into magnificent rooms and halls. More than anything you've ever dreamed of, Belle! Better than all of your stories. A fire crackled in the first room and a soft bed looked very inviting. It was now late, and I could not resist. I lay down on the bed and fell fast asleep. When I woke next morning, an unknown hand had placed a mug of steaming coffee and some fruit by my bedside."

Belle frowned. Where were the servants? The butlers or cooks? Such a magnificent place was sure to have them.

"I stayed for a week while the storm strengthened, then thinned. Phillipe was taken care of as well, and I still don't know who did. After a week I went to leave, but took one last turn around the courtyard. Then I found...I found a gate." His voice trembled. "I unlatched it and stepped through, and there was...there was a rose bush. It was so beautiful. Belle, I had to get you one. I had to." His voice cracked. "Just as I'd plucked one, I met the...the master of the house. He was...a...a monster! He said he would kill me, but I told him how you wanted a rose of your own."

Belle jerked away from her father. "Papa, what did you do?"

"I was a prisoner for weeks, Belle. Weeks! He...he agreed to spare my life, and to give us all we would ever need, if only one of you would agree to be his prisoner in my stead. Otherwise, I would die, and the three of you would perish in street. You would be destitute, and orphaned, and my heart could not take that. All one of you has to do is go in my place, and we shall have more than enough." He looked to Laura first. She was the eldest. It was her obligation. "Please,"

"Papa, you cannot be serious. There are plenty of men here for me to marry. I would never be destitute," She sniffed, frowning at the box on the table. "Why would I give my life into the hands of a strange man I've never met? It's barbaric."

Pauline offered similar, although apologetic, sentiments.

"I'll go, Papa. You're right. We shouldn't be orphaned, and if this...man has agreed to care for you and my sisters then why wouldn't I?" She managed a smile, even though her heart was flipping in her chest. "I don't know who will cook for you." She laughed a little. "How...how do I get there? When do I go?"

"You take this, my darling girl." He passed her the box. "Inside is a ring. It will guide you to the castle. You must go as soon as the storm ends. He said if no one returns in a week, he'll seek us out and make us wish I'd never laid sight on his home. Phillipe will take you, the ring will guide you, and then all of us will be safe." He slumped back in his seat. "We'll all be safe."

The following morning was cloudless. Everything was blanketed in white, and as she saddled Phillipe she imagined the burn in her eyes was from the cold rather than tears. She'd dressed warmly, and taken enough food to make the next town, but was otherwise without baggage. Papa and her sisters still slept - she'd watched the sun rise through a veil of tears so thick she thought she would drown in them. Her father had given her away without a blink. Wealth? Was that what she was worth to him? He had to know her sisters would never have agreed to the offer. She was his only hope now. Their only hope. What sort of man would threaten a poor man with death? She mounted Phillipe and her breath puffed white in the early morning air.

In her lap, clutched in her gloved hands, was the box her father had clutched so desperately.

The dark wood was heavier than she'd thought it would be. The lid was engraved with flowers of all sorts, the wood shaped into the most beautiful carvings she'd ever seen. The box wasn't latched, although it resisted as she pushed the lid up. Inside, on a bed of velvet, was a small and nearly insignificant ring set with one green stone. She removed one glove to put it on, and it slid neatly onto the ring finger of her right hand. How was this supposed to guide her? "Um...I would...I would like to go..." Where? Where was she going? "Where I'm supposed to." Suddenly the ring flared to life, glowing so brightly she almost dropped the box. A beam of light went out the door and down the lane, towards the uncertainty of the snow covered woods.

She rode for hours, down trails she knew and many more that were as foreign to her as they were to visitors in general. She passed a few ill prepared travelers who looked not only unused to the cold, but the pain of a long ride. Her riding clothes softened the blows of the bouncing, lessening the black and blue marks sure to mar her thighs later in the evening. Belle took only two pauses in her ride, each of which the ring seemed to burn and scald her finger. She ate and drank and shook snow from her scarlet hood. Rimmed in white rabbit fur it kept out most of the cold, but a chill that had nothing to do with the atmosphere sank deep into her skin.

Was she riding to her death?

An enchanted ring meant little - had she not been terrified it would have fascinated her - other than the fact that this strange being could possibly be a wizard, or under the employment of a witch. She urged Phillipe faster when the howl of a wolf sounded somewhere in the trees. Unfortunately she hadn't the comfort of her thoughts, because before long another howl answered the first. The hairs along her arms rose at the third. By the fourth, making it a quartet from somewhere behind her, she'd urged her enormous steed into a full out gallop. They were hunting her.


	4. Chapter 4

Phillipe had never run so hard in his entire life. Belle bent low over his neck and clutched his sides with her knees. The howls were growing closer, and when she lifted her eyes to look around she caught sight of dark, grey forms slicing through the trees surrounding what remained of the path. She gasped in horror as yellow eyes flashed in her direction, and pulled Phillipe hard to the left when one of the forms leaped at them. The teeth of the animal barely missed scraping her shoe. Suddenly the cold air wasn't quite so threatening. The hunger she'd been thinking about fled.

She just had to go faster!

It was the wolf who suddenly appeared to run beside them that drew her attention. She'd read of Alpha wolves, but never dreamed she would see one so close. Its eyes were amber, its mouth full of hideous teeth. Around its throat was a thicker coat of black, and the fur around its muzzle was stained crimson. Across its left eye was a long, thick, pink scar that pulled its lip up into a larger snarl than it might have had otherwise. It snapped at Phillipe's leg and the horse reared. "No! Phillipe! Run!" She cried, attempting to force him back down. He pawed at the air and whinnied.

She clung to his back and gasped at the tug at her throat. One of the wolves pulled at her hooded cape, and she just barely freed herself before Phillipe landed his forelegs down again, trampling one of the smaller ones. She could easily hear the snap and crunch of the poor thing's bones, but they surged forward again, leaving the corpse behind. Several of the wolves, smaller and sickly looking, dragged it off into the depths of the trees. Only three remained on the hunt - including the alpha. Tears pricked at her vision and the ring on her finger suddenly sent fire along her hand - and she was sure - gave a weak tug to the right.

Belle steered Phillipe down a trail she would have missed otherwise, and as they galloped forward she saw what looked to be an imposing iron gate, left partially open. The steed seemed to have spotted the same and surged forward. She pulled hard enough on the reigns to pull Phillipe into a rear and slid backwards, nearly twisting her ankle as she fell onto cold, slick cobblestone. The young woman raced forward and just managed to slam the gate closed as the trio of wolves threw themselves against it. One of them managed to fit its muzzle through the gate and tear the sleeve of her dress, but the lock on the gate seemed to do its job. She collapsed backwards with a sob.

The ring no longer sent out light. It was cool against her finger, its power apparently exhausted. Only after the wolves had stalked away did she find the strength to stand and take a look at her surroundings. She was in a courtyard of some kind, full of leafless trees with gnarled branches and black bark. Dead silence surrounded her. In front of her was an imposing looking castle, its sharp turrets grey with filthy snow and gargoyles perched at every corner. She took Phillipe's reigns in hand and slowly led him forward through an arch of dark stone. Empty pots sat on either side of it, and as she walked through she found what she assumed her father had - a clean, dry stable. She penned the horse inside and continued her search.

The grounds were bare. There wasn't a single servant in sight, and the disrepair of the structure encouraged her belief that there weren't any. Belle shivered as she looked around, finally finding a strangle, glass door that opened easily to her gentle push. Inside, was a wonderland. A white, stone path curved this way and that through bushes of Azaleas and Hydrangeas. Daisies filled the gaps and she'd never seen such rainbows of colors! She walked slowly along the pathway, quite forgetting where she was. It was warm enough to melt the snow that clung to her hair. She distantly heard the quiet tinkling of a fountain. As she turned another corner she froze in her steps. There, not four steps ahead, was the most beautiful rose bush she'd ever seen.

She moved as though caught in a spell, one hand extended to clutch the silky flowers blooming on the well tended plant. It obviously had a place of honor, as four marble benches sat around it for admiring, although three were heavily damaged. Belle pushed a lock of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear, and the dizzying scent of roses froze her. They almost seemed to glow. Ever so carefully she reached one hand out and -

"What do you think you're doing?" The voice was a roar from behind her, and she whirled to see an enormous, brown...beast standing on its hind legs. It roared again. Belle stared up at the figure in horror, falling back over a broken marble bench. She'd meant to be brave. She'd meant to not cry. Yet tears streamed down her cheeks and tremors took her body. She'd done this for her father. The minute he crawled in through the front door coughing and retching with fear, she knew she'd be giving something up. "I said, what do you think you're doing?" Curling, black horns grew from its forehead and it was covered in a thick layer of shaggy, brown fur. It easily stood eight feet tall, and a long, thick tail seemed to support it as it stood.

"I-I, my father...he..." She couldn't breathe, let alone speak. Why hadn't her father prepared her for this? "I agreed." She finally managed to force out.

The beast seemed confused. "Agreed? Agreed to steal from me?" The voice was decidedly masculine, and hypnotizing blue eyes caught and held her. If she was about to die, at least she could watch them as the life left her body. "Was your father the man I fed and warmed? He sat in my chair. Slept in my bed." He snarled, going down into a crouch. She'd never seen anything so terrifying. "Then he made to steal my most precious possession."

"You...you freed him...in return for a...a daughter to marry." She blurted, staring up at him. Belle still hadn't moved from her place on the floor, and sharp pieces of stone were bloodying her hand.

The beast made a sound similar to outrage and advanced so that he was standing over her. From here she could feel the heat radiating from him, and those teeth! They reminded her of the wolves circling outside the gate. She didn't dare move. "Is that what that weasel of a man told you? Far from it. He begged to bid farewell to his precious daughters. He swore to return and accept his punishment for throwing my hospitality back in my face. If he sent you, it was out of fear for his own skin." His words were knives in her gut - piercing, burning, twisting knives - and there seemed to be no end of them.

"What did you say?" Her voice was a whisper.

"Your dear father lied to you, to save himself. If you've come in his place, this is not where you belong." He suddenly stood and pulled her up by one arm. Her shoulder screamed with pain as he yanked her off of her feet and held her arm above his head. "The garden is no place for prisoners." Lowering her back onto her feet, he stalked back through the garden. She found herself running to keep up with him. If she didn't, he might very well tear her arm from her socket.

"Please! I only meant to make amends for my father! He couldn't have lied to me like that! He wouldn't!" She tripped over a step as he dragged her into the castle, and she didn't have a second to admire it. Hallways and stairways and tapestries went by in a blur as they ascended higher and higher. It became increasingly colder, and darker, and soon she realized she was not in a very welcoming place. They entered a circular room filled with doors, each with a little window at the bottom and bars across it. Belle pulled against his grip when he jerked one of the doors open, and could do little else as he fairly threw her inside. It was wet. It was cold. It was a cell.

"Your father lied to you. The moment you realize that is the moment I know what to do with you." He growled, slamming it closed.

Belle fell to her knees and gripped the bars, pushing as hard as she could. The door refused to budge. "Monsieur! Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

His shadow was fading from view, but she heard his heavy footfalls stop short of the stairs. "I'm called Beast." He said quietly, silence suddenly dominating the small space. "You'll do well to remember it."


	5. Chapter 5

Belle counted the stones in the walls that surrounded her. She felt the rough, biting wood of the door and tried the handle countless times. She couldn't give Beast the pleasure of begging, she decided. Although the bitter winter chill crept between the cracks in the stone, she bit her lip and refused to cry. It howled around the building and pulled whatever sleep she might have gotten away. It gave her plenty of time to think. Wouldn't someone have said something about a reclusive monster in a terrifying castle? Would they have mentioned...something? She drew her knees tight to her chest, and pressed herself against the wall closest to the door. It was a little warmer at that spot, but not enough that she wasn't mentally cursing her father. Her teeth were chattering too badly to do it out loud.

Why would he lie to her?! He'd known she would volunteer to help him. He'd known she would...she would...

The doorknob rattled, and after a moment the door swung open. She was too cold to be properly afraid of seeing Beast again, so when a round, ceramic teapot hopped into the darkness of her cell she only blinked at it and kept her crouched position.

"Oh dear me! Oh my! Has he really locked you in this cell? Dear, dear, it's much too cold for that!" The little pot hopped round so that it's spout faced her, and Belle let out a little, startled yelp. It was talking! It had a face! With a plump little mouth and firm, round cheeks it looked like a pleasant older woman. It smiled so gently, that the young woman was more startled than afraid.

"W-what are you..."

"I'm Mrs. Potts dear," The object said, hopping closer. It really was a beautiful thing, all white ceramic and gold trim. It had turquoise and purple accents, which only added to it's pleasant look. She'd never seen such a nice teapot before. "I've brought you a little something. I hadn't the slightest idea it would be this cold, or I would have brought you some blankets and soup." A firm little frown tugged down the corners of it's - her - mouth. "Well, I brought what I could. Chip! Chip! Quickly dear, before the Master comes up!"

Then in hopped another curious little thing - a small, white teacup. It was followed by a little plate with a silver lid, and what looked like a sugar bowl and pitcher of cream. The cup hopped up to Mrs. Potts, and she poured what looked to be a promising, steaming amber liquid into it from her spout. The sugar bowl and pitcher added their contents as well, and Belle cautiously reached out when the cup turned her way. It settled perfectly into her palm, and when she took a sip it actually giggled.

"Mama, it tickles!" Belle quickly pulled away, but Mrs. Potts was quick to hush the little thing.

"Let her warm up, Chip, so she can eat something. I'm sorry to rush you dear, but I haven't the slightest idea when he'll return."

Concerned by Mrs. Potts's tone, Belle quickly finished the cup of tea and accepted a second before warmth crept back into her fingers and toes. It was only then that the silver lid moved aside on its own to reveal a portion of cold chicken and thick crusted bread. Belle pressed a hand against her stomach. While the tea was certainly fine, and seemed to even be helping her gain a bit of control over her thoughts, chicken would probably make her lose it all. Still, she reached out and took the bread. After thanking the dishes, yet another first, Belle tucked it into the pocket of her apron.

Mrs. Potts hopped closer and pressed herself against Belle's thigh. Gladdened and warmed by the company, Belle found herself dozing off until there was an alarming clatter. All at once the dishes were suddenly leaving as quickly as they came. Mrs. Potts was nudging Chip through the open door.

"The Master is on his way up. Stay right here, dear. You'll be right as rain." Then with that she was gone, the cell door locking behind her.

Belle didn't have to wait for long. Before she knew it the door was flung open, and in stormed the Beast. The room that had once seemed too small, was now such a tight fit she could hardly breathe. When he grasped her arm and yanked her to her feet, leaving her shoulder screaming in agony, Belle could have almost thanked him. Instead, she simply whimpered. "Where are you taking me now?" She gasped, stumbling behind Beast. All she had for a reply was a low, deep growl.

She was pulled down a spiraling staircase and through a bustling kitchen, complete with a roaring fire and the clattering of dishes and pans. She saw Mrs. Potts resting on a large, iron stove but said nothing. She would have liked to linger and look over the selection of dried herbs she could see hanging from the exposed beams. Instead she quickened her pace to keep up with his long strides, her breath catching at the brilliant decadence of the castle. The hallways went on forever, their steps muffled by beautiful carpets with blues and golds and greens. Tapestries decorated the walls, and eventually he released her arm.

She took the time now to admire it all. Painted vases filled with flowers from the garden and marble busts lined the hallways. They reached a stretch armed on either side with full suits of armor she assumed were empty - until they turned to face them, saluting with sharpened swords. "You will not be here as my prisoner," Beast growled, slowing his steps and releasing her arm. Belle took the opportunity to rub her sore shoulder. If she was home, she would have taken something to heal it, maybe a hot bath to soothe the ache.

"Then...what am I to be here as?" She swallowed when the eyes of a portrait followed her, its mouth curving into a frown.

"My guest." He bit off the words. "Your father may have given your life to me, but he was the one at fault. Not you. You will have a room, and free reign of the castle. But you must never enter the East Wing. If you do, you'll go back to the tower," He snapped, coming to a halt in front of a pair of dark wood doors. Both were engraved with an alarming amount of detail, but she didn't have the chance to look at it any more. Beast shoved them open to reveal the most beautiful room she'd ever seen.

The floors sparkled in the light of half a dozen golden torches secured to the walls. What might have been an opposing wall was instead an enormous window that looked out onto a dark night. Frost had whitened the corners, but she could only barely see such a thing peeking from behind a pair of thick, red velvet curtains. The walls were the color of fresh cream, with a trim around the room just two shades darker.

She followed him into the room. There was a bed big enough for both herself and her sisters, draped in a duvet so plush it looked to be made of clouds, with enough pillows she wondered if it was possible to drown in them. A beautifully carved vanity with a looking glass and a selection of combs, brushes and small, metal tins certain to contain the same cosmetics her sisters enjoyed sat just opposite the bed, beside a chest of drawers. A roaring fire set into a marble hearth and a fine, small round table by the window set with a bouquet of roses and a lace tablecloth, flanked by two high backed chairs added to the comfort of the room. What looked like a copper bathtub was hidden almost entirely from view by a standing curtain.

Everything about it was impossibly lovely.

"This is your room. You will have servants to attend you. Tonight you will bathe and dress. You will find clothes laid out for you. You will then join me for dinner," With that he turned and left, the sound of a key turning in the lock serving to remind her that she was still a prisoner. She waited until the thundering of his footsteps was merely an echo before going for the tub. Rose scented steam rose from the filled bath, and Belle wondered if giving her such comforts was actually a trick, meant only to break her spirit. She'd read about such things, but found that even with such knowledge in mind she couldn't help but shed her filthy clothes and sink deep into the water.

The sweet smelling water lapped at her chin as she sank into the deep basin. She scrubbed away the dirt from from her ride and the filth from the tower. She lathered her hair with a bar of soap that rested on a nearby towel, and soon she was as pink as she could possibly be. It took some time for her to feel clean, let alone relax. The water cooled long before then, leaving her chilly and staring up at the ceiling. Her hair, nearly black as it floated in the water, stuck to her throat and cheeks. Eventually the water was too cold to remain in, and she climbed out to dry off with a thick, plush towel folded beside the tub on the floor.

Belle took her time drying and combing out her hair. Whatever was in the soap had done wonders for it. It curled full and dark around her shoulders, complimenting the flush in her cheeks brought on by her steadily growing anger. If he didn't consider her a prisoner - if she had her own room, servants and clothes - then why should she do as he said? She left the towel on the floor by the vanity and walked slowly toward the bed, where a beautiful blue gown had been laid. Soft, white linen underthings lay next to it, as well as a pair of soft blue shoes with a delicate, black heel. She couldn't help picking them up and running her hands over them. They were a dyed leather as soft as butter, and before she knew it they were on her feet.

"What am I doing?" She murmured, slipping the gown over her head. The long sleeves clung to her arms, as well as the bodice to her waist, while the skirt fell with just enough room to not block movement. It gently swept the floor. In fact, it was more comfortable than restricting. Just as she began to admire her reflection there were two sharp raps at the door. She hurried to open it, and a harsh little cough drew her eyes downward. There stood what looked like a cross little clock. It had an actual face, which happened to be frowning up at her. "Oh, um, hello," She stammered. "Who are you?"

"I'm Cogsworth, and I'm here to take you to dinner."


	6. Chapter 6

Belle followed Cogsworth down the hall, unable to stop twisting her hands together. She took one step for every four steps he did, and kept her head down. She wanted to speak, to ask why inanimate objects were walking and talking and behaving like servants, but worried that a demand for freedom would erupt instead. They turned left and she realized they were heading back towards the kitchen. The little clock cleared its - his - throat and a pair of doors swung open without a sound. The young woman looked up finally and gasped. Was the room before her for dining or dancing? Twin chandeliers lit the room with a golden glow, and the walls were painted a deep, warm maroon. Cogsworth led her to one high backed chair and did his best to pull it out for her to sit. Directly to her left, parallel with a table large enough for twenty, was a fireplace that could have easily consumed her father's stable. Above it hung a painting of a woman sitting on a marble bench that looked suspiciously like the one she'd tripped over.

Beast did not stand to greet her. He glowered from his place at one end of the opulently decorated table while she pulled herself closer. The tablecloth was silk she realized, a deep purple and hemmed with a thick border of gold. There were more silver trays than she could guess what to do with. Anxiously she pulled some of her curls over her shoulder and ran her fingers through. Did he...did he expect her to say something? She looked around uncertainly and watched Cogsworth climb the mantel over the fireplace and tap on a three-armed golden candelabra with leaf-shaped accents. It opened eyes she wouldn't have seen otherwise that appeared to be sculpted in the middle and tallest candle, its other two it waved in a sort of bow.

"We would like to welcome our guest in the best way we know how," It said suddenly. "With, a dinner," All at once every lid suddenly lifted and rolled itself away and out the doors. There were roasted game hens basted with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit, the smell of them wafting towards her in the most pleasing of ways. She could smell cured meats and sausages, and saw what she assumed were mussels steamed in white wine - something her father had told her of when he visited the ports. There were platters of fruit so colorful she could only name three of them, namely the strawberries, apples and grapes, and fresh-baked bread. There was a tureen of steaming, thick soup of barley and venison that smelled of home; one of sweet onion covered in cheese, and salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums sprinkled with crushed nuts; snails in honey and garlic; sweetbreads and pigeon pie, baked apples fragrant with cinnamon, and lemon cakes frosted in sugar. The bottles of wine poured themselves into a glass at her hand, and little golden forks and spoons served her from every dish offered.

She used her index finger to taste some soft, grey stuff that was absolutely delicious, but lost her appetite the moment Beast began to eat. He was ravenous and sloppy, cutlery long forgotten and instead being careful to only not break the dishes. Soup matted the fur around his mouth, and bones began to litter the floor at his feet as he tore through several of the small chickens. Her stomach flopped and she pressed a hand to her breastbone before taking a sip of the wine. It was sharp and smooth, the flavor not only grapes but of something exotic and spiced.

"Must you carry on that way?" She asked finally, blotting her mouth dry with a napkin.

Beast looked up at her and scowled around a mouthful of pigeon pie. "Eat,"

"I'd rather not, actually," She set her napkin on the table, straightening in her seat.

"It wasn't a request," He pointed to the tray of otherwise appealing lemon cakes.

"I'm not hungry," Her cheeks were growing warmer.

"If you don't eat with me, you won't eat at all!"

"Fine!" She pushed herself to her feet and flinched slightly when he did as well, his chair flying back across the floor.

"Then starve!" He roared, flinging a metal tray at her. It flew past her left ear when she narrowly flinched out of the way, and bolted for the door. Dishes were fleeing, silverware was rattling on the table. Beast roared and as she yanked open one of the huge doors, she saw him hurl the table across the room. It scraped along the floor, the table cloth tore, and then she was running faster than she'd ever thought she could move. Blinded by tears and anger, the only familiar way was back to the room she'd been 'given'. She barred herself in, managing to lock the doors before anyone arrived.

She'd done it with no time to spare, because almost the second the bolt slid into place she could hear Beast roaring and pounding on the other side. She backed away towards the bed, her hands shaking. "Go away!"

"This is my home! How dare you come here and make a fool of me! I was being kind! I made a dinner for you, I had clothes made for you, and now you refuse my kindness?" Almost every word was punctuated with a strike on the door so sharp she thought she saw the wood bend. "You can't stay in there forever!"

"Yes I can! I would rather starve in here than spend a moment with you!" She managed to choke out the words, reached blindly for something and felt her fingers wrap around the neck of a vase. It didn't move, so with the mad hope it wasn't alive she threw it at the door. The crystal shattered, leaving wet petals and water dripping down the wood. The noise on the other side of the door stopped. She thought she could maybe hear low voices murmuring together, then the heavy thud-thud-thud of Beast's foot steps fading away. Belle swayed on her feet, then turned and stumbled for the enormous bed. Collapsing onto it, she didn't bother to remove the dress. Instead she buried herself in the duvet and the silk of her gown, and prayed that sleep would find her. For a short time, she did.

Then there were three, soft and distinct knocks on the door.

Belle rose slowly, the candles dripping wax down the holder and onto the floor. The light in the room was low, but she was able to make her way to the door. She felt like she was dreaming, and when she noticed opened the door the realization struck her. Of course she was dreaming. Before her stood the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on. His copper hair fell in perfect waves just beneath his ears. His bright blue eyes were focused so intently, that she almost didn't see the ghost of a smile he wore or the tray of welcoming food in his hands. He was taller by at least a head's height, and dressed in a blue and gold pair of trousers, torn at the knee. Although he was shirtless, it was his eyes that caught and held her like a vice. Where had she seen them before?

"I'm Adam," He said, the words coming through a fog.

"Belle..." Was she actually speaking? It was such a pleasant dream, but her tongue felt too heavy in her mouth. "Won't you come in?"

"Yes, thank you," He moved in past her and set the tray on the table by the window before giving her a bow. She returned with what she felt was a perfect curtsy. "Belle, I would like to apologize for the actions of the Beast. He is unused to other people, and his anger has only grown over his years of solitude. Please be kind to him, and gentle with him. He will come to see you for the blessing you are, not the curse he believes now," He'd stepped so close she could smell him - an intoxicating scent of sunlight and musk that had her falling.

She wasn't at all surprised when he caught her, and when he carried her towards the bed she merely smiled. It was a very nice dream. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his fingers combing through her hair. "You want me to be nice to Beast?" She felt Adam's lips on her cheek and couldn't help but sigh.

"He needs kindness, Belle. He needs a friend," His words came more distantly now, from the other side of the valley rather than through a fog. His voice was the call of the doves as the sun crept over the snow covered hills. "He needs love,"

Belle sat up then, wide awake and alert, to see only the sun shining into her room. The doors were shut and bolted, and the candles had burned themselves into mere lumps of wax. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and frowned. She'd never had such a nice, real dream before. It took some work to push back the tangle of blankets and make her way to the window. Now with morning light shed upon the grounds, it was even more striking than the night before. Eager to change into something more suitable she turned for the dresser - and saw a silver tray resting on her table. She lifted the lid to find fruit, cheese and bread. A tin mug of cider was present as well, which she could easily warm with a poker from the fire. But...where had it come from?

She put a hand to her cheek and lifted a single, pink rose from the tray. Its petals were just beginning to unfurl. What was going on in this castle?


	7. Chapter 7

After warming the cider and taking several, calming swallows, Belle shed the dress from the night before. It was beautiful, but certainly no use for wandering about. She laid the skirt, bodice and shoes on the bed and clothed only in her underthings rifled through the armoire. There were several dresses to choose from, but if the frost on the window was any indication she would need something warm. Eventually she found a pale green dress with wrist length sleeves, hemmed in fabric the color of the trees in summer. It was embroidered with all manner of flowers and birds, and along the bottom were two butterflies stitched with gold thread that shimmered with every step. The gown fit her perfectly, and folded in a drawer she found a pair of warm, woolen stockings. She plucked the pins from her hair and washed her face before sitting down to break her fast.

Everything was delicious, and when the tray was empty she felt a great deal of remorse that there wasn't more of it. She cleaned her hands and walked closer to the window, taking her time as she tied her curls loosely at the nape of her neck. She wanted to see the garden again, and get a feel of the grounds. Maybe she could even go for a ride- Suddenly struck by an alarming thought, her hand flew to her mouth. Phillipe! She ran for the door, pausing by the armoire to lace herself into a pair of warm, brown boots. She unbolted the door, ran out, and nearly slid to a stop. Beast stood not five feet away carrying a silver tray. He looked away from her, instead fastening his gaze on the floor.

"I've...I've come to apologize," He said, holding out his offering. "You did not eat last night, and I shall not have you starve,"

Belle curtsied. "I, um, thank you sir. But I'm most anxious to look in on my horse. There were wolves when we arrived and I -"

"He's being looked after. I can take you to him if you'd like," He set the tray on the floor, and seemed to be considering something. "Come with me,"

She followed after him dutifully, trying to memorize the winding hallways and numerous rooms. Every corner they turned brought a fresh set of doors aching to be peeked through. There were paintings whose eyes followed every step, and tapestries that seemed to shiver with movement as she passed. Although he was many feet taller, his footfalls were quieter than her own. The heels of the boots clicked on the marble floor, and she struggled to quiet them as they made their way down a winding staircase. Eventually he led her down to the main entrance hall, where a dazzling chandelier nearly took her breath away. After handing her her own red coat, since repaired of tears and holes, he pushed open the heavy front doors. Fresh, white snow blanketed the grounds. They crunched through it across the courtyard toward the stables, where Beast merely nodded and she slipped in alone.

Phillipe looked pleased with his new home. Fresh hay covered the floor, and he had water and oats to eat. His coat had been brushed and his mane and tail were braided with bright, red ribbon. He proudly angled this way and that to give her a better look. She ran a hand down his neck as he laid his head against her shoulder. "You look just fine," She murmured against his silky coat. His hot breath against over her back was more comforting than the enormous bed upstairs, and she longed to stay with him. A bed in the straw would suit her. "You aren't frightened?" He whinnied softly and shook his head before nudging at her hips and hands for a treat. Belle laughed. "Oh Phillipe, at least you're true to me. I still can't believe Papa lied," Her lip trembled and she settled down into a pile of straw, gazing up at her horse. "We're here forever, Phillipe..."

The weeks flew by. Every night Beast asked her to come to dinner, and most times she refused. When she didn't, his behavior made her wish she had. He tore through the elaborately laid dinners savagely, turning her stomach and ruining whatever compliments she'd like to pay to the oven - which she'd since discovered somehow managed to pull delicious food from thin air. Still, his general attitude was much kinder. He'd given her nearly free reign over the estate - or was it really a castle? - and she took Phillipe riding around the grounds. She'd had several hysterical fits over things that reminded her of home, and strangely enough it was on those nights that Adam visited her.

She could never be certain about when he would come. Some nights she slept alone, fitfully caught in her nightmares. Even the luxurious bed couldn't keep them at bay. Belle worried for her sisters and her father. How did they explain her disappearance? Yet on the nights it was the worst, those three wonderful knocks sounded. At first he would merely sit with her, talking of places she'd never seen and foods she'd never heard of. Several times he brought food and ate with her, refining her palate and giving her a taste for champagne sweetened with strawberries. They'd fallen into an easy companionship, and she wasn't sure how she would have gotten through the weeks without him encouraging her.

"Where do you go during the day, Adam?" She asked one evening as they reclined in front of her fireplace. He combed his fingers through her loose hair. "I've been looking for you, and yet I can't find you." He shifted, moving her weight away from him and turning to look into her eyes.

"I'm trapped here, Belle. Much like you are," He moved to brush the hair from her face, and his hand paused.

"You mean, the Beast is keeping you here?" She leaned into his palm as his thumb made circles against her cheek.

"In a sense, yes." He drew her closer, so that she could smell the warm, honeyed wine on his breath. "Belle, do you know why the objects here can move? Why they think and speak?"

She shook her head. "No. I haven't even asked..." She mused when he drew away to stoke the fire. "Mrs. Potts actually scolded Chip yesterday, when he was complaining about not being able to run anymore. It's so strange I didn't...I didn't even question it."

Adam moved closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The young woman leaned against him again, comfortable in his closeness.

"Many years ago, this castle was owned by a Prince and his beloved wife. They were very close in line to the throne, and rumors of assassinations plagued them into isolation. His wife grew prouder of their wealth and position, and it was during the isolation that she gave birth to a child. She raised him to be proud, and distrustful. He had people to taste his food and handle his toys and horses. He was never allowed anywhere except for his beloved garden," He sighed into her hair. "He was never alone, always watched, always judged..."

A pause grew too lengthy and she shifted to look more closely. It was always hard to focus when he came. He was generally foggy and out of focus, but with the firelight throwing shadows across the floor and illuminating his features, he was suddenly more real than any of her waking moments. She'd started to accept that he couldn't possibly be real. "And?"

"And then one day they went away. They had to visit relatives abroad, it couldn't be helped, but at least someone had to live if they never returned." He stood and refilled his wine glass from the bottle on the table. He'd brought it in with him, and had honestly drunk most of it. "It stormed that night, and all alone the boy was frightened. Then, came three knocks on the door. The boy, thinking his parents had returned for him, ran to pull them open and instead found a disfigured, elderly woman. Her rags stank of blood and feces, and the eye that wasn't milky white spun circles in her skull. He tried to be brave by thinking of his mother, and drew himself as tall and proud as she was."

"That wasn't easy for a boy only nine years old, but he was his mother's child," He drank down half his glass. "She asked for food, and shelter, for the night. The boy knew he couldn't allow this woman in, but made as though he would charge her for lodging. It was what his mother would have done. He asked what she would give him while trying to close the door, and she...she brought out a rose."

"A rose?"

"The most exquisite rose. Its petals were as dark as blood, the tips of each shimmering as thought dipped in starlight. Its scent was heady and intoxicating. With a love for gardens, you can imagine how tempting it was. So the boy held out his hand and right as she dropped the flower into his palm he asked a servant to bring her to a stable and bring a loaf of bread and some water."

"That wasn't what she wanted, was it?"

"No. She wanted...generosity. Care. Not to be cast aside for something so precious," He hung his head. "She was livid. Furious. In the blink of an eye she'd shed her disguise as a filthy crone into a beautiful sorceress. Her eyes were savage and wild. She cursed the boy to be as hideous as his heart, and all of those who enabled him. She cursed the grounds who suffered at his hands, and then...she left. The boy's parents returned days later and just...started screaming."

"What had she done?"

"She'd made him into a beast. She wasn't cruel, though. When she discovered his treatment at the hands of his parents she drove them away and returned the rose to him. She apologized, but there was no spell she could do to undo her curse. What she'd done was permanent. So she added a catch. If he could find love, and be loved, by his thirtieth year, he would return to his human state. So would everyone who served him." Adam stood and finished the rest of his wine before walking to the table and retrieving the bottle. A bit of liquid sloshed in the bottle as he uneasily made for the door.

"So everyone...even him...they're cursed?"

The copper haired man gave her a sad smile as he pulled the door open. "Not just them. Me..." He peered out into the hallway, taking a single step beyond the threshold. "...and you. You're part of this now, Belle. For that, I am so...so sorry."

The next morning she woke buried in her blankets, with a fire barely flickering in the hearth. Her mouth tasted faintly of honey and her head throbbed, and in place of her usual breakfast was nothing but a single, empty wineglass. She didn't remember drinking, she didn't remember much at all about even getting into bed but she washed her face and changed into a mirror copy of the blue dress she'd arrived in. Madame Armoire, a bulkish closet with an almost alarming sense of fashion, had made it for her. The new material was softer and less prone to tearing.

She was tying up her tangled hair when Lumiere called out to her from the hallway. She hurried barefoot to unlock and open the door, and was surprised to see Beast carrying a tray.

"Good morning," She murmured, looking down at the candlestick holder before clearing her throat. "What, ah, what may I do for you?"

"I brought you breakfast," Beast said, holding out the tray. "Are you hungry?" Something prickled at the back of her mind as he spoke. "It isn't much..."

"It's perfect, thank you." She pushed the door wider just as he reached to hand her the tray. "Oh...won't you join me? It's lonesome to eat alone."

Beast looked down to Lumiere, who nodded and gestured madly for him to enter the room. "Ah, yes, thank you."

Beast carefully uncovered the tray, a beautiful cold salad of fresh fruit with crusty bread and chilled ham, and gently laid a plate in front of her. It adjusted itself to be perfectly in place, as did her fork and a cup of hot tea. He sat himself down, trying in vain to put distance between them, but the roundness of the table made it difficult. In the end, they were seated with their arms nearly touching. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you," What was that strange sadness in his eyes? She wondered, seeing them more closely than she had since her arrival. "I had the most peculiar dream, though."

"Did you?" He added sugar and cream to her tea, as though already knowing what she liked, and it was only after a sip that she was startled to discover he'd gotten it right. How often had he watched her as she prepared it herself?

"Yes, it's one I have often. It's...strange. It feels very real."

"I have dreams too. Nightmares more often than not." He very gently lifted one of the forks and speared a rather large chunk of melon. A quick glance at Lumiere proved her suspicions - he'd been coaching his Master.

"I dream of my father," Belle said, breaking off a chunk of the bread and staring thoughtlessly at the snowfall. "I dream of my sisters, and wonder how they explain that I'm gone."

"I'm sorry," The tone struck a chord, and she turned quickly to look at him. He was chewing his meal slowly, focusing on every move he made. "Do you miss them much? You mentioned their treatment of you. They sound poisonous. It might be better that you are away."

"Mm," She nodded, though she didn't agree. "I suppose. It's safer here. There was a man in the village who sought my attention. I could not have cared less about him, except he'd taken to cornering me. I'm worried for -" A crunch of glass froze the words in her throat, and the fork in her hand began to tremble although her hand wasn't moving.

Beast looked down at the crystal embedded in his large, fleshy paw and seemed shocked by the blood dripping onto the table.

"Oh, oh my! Lumiere, get Mrs. Potts to bring some hot water. Some healing ointment if you have it, and honey and rose petals if you don't. A large bowlful should be fine. Hurry, please." She rose and took Beast by the arm, guiding him towards the fire. Quickly she set to work pulling out the glass, some pieces would have been impossible without her small fingers, while others were large enough to get the Beast himself to wince at the pain of it. When Mrs. Potts arrived she bathed the wound, then ground the petals and honey together into a poultice with the heel of her hand.

"What are you doing?" Beast asked finally, when she'd smeared the sweet smelling mixture over the wound and applied a bandage.

"With the leaves? Well, roses actually staunch bleeding and -"

"No, right now. Why are you doing this? You're my prisoner."

Belle was silent for several moments. "No, I'm your guest." Yet the words took real effort to say. "Why did you crush the glass? You've frightened the silverware,"

Their plates and forks had fled, leaving fruit and bread littered over the table and floor. Several pieces at his side were stained crimson.

"I'm sorry. I...I didn't like what you said."

"About my sisters? Well, you said they were poiso-"

"No, about the man. The one that cornered you." He reached out with the hand she didn't clutch in her own and stroked her cheek. Her stomach plunged into a bath of ice water that froze the breath in her lungs when it returned to its rightful place. "No one should think that's acceptable,"

"I...I suppose not." She said, dropping his hand and standing abruptly. "I hoped that helped. I...I going to take care of Phillipe. Thank you for breakfast." Before he could say another word she fled, pushing out of her room and nearly flying down the hallway. Her heart thundered in her ears, threatening to drown out the words that was too familiar.


	8. Chapter 8

When she finally came back into the castle hours later - for some reason it took most of the morning to muck out Phillipe's mostly clean stable - all was quiet. It was easy to move through the passageways without someone at her side. Not having the chance to properly explore previously almost set an itch in her legs. She understood where to go without having eyes on her now, and quietly crept up towards the highest point of of the castle. It had once been her prison, certainly, but not for too long. The air grew colder as she went higher, and twice her shoes slipped on the slick steps. Abandoned by its Master and prisoners alike, this area of the castle had already grown icy. Even the latches of the cells were frozen shut. Belle didn't stay long - if Adam were here, this wasn't where Beast was keeping him.

She then began to sweep her way downward, creeping quietly through abandoned bedrooms and sitting rooms. She found a velvet chaise lounge infested with a nest of baby mice, and several portraits that had been torn to ribbons. In one room she found a fireplace, its hearth filled with charred, ruined books and felt her heart seize. It was impossible to make out the titles, and she blackened her fingers struggling to decipher the spines. Eventually her growling stomach pulled her away from her search and toward the kitchen, where someone had laid a filling lunch for her. She tucked some of the bread into the pockets of her dress and ventured back into the heart of the castle.

It was bigger than she'd thought, and by the time the sun was creeping low in the windows and the sky was hues of orange and purple, she had only barely scraped through the Northern most area of the castle before returning to her room smudged with soot, her nails chipped and broken, and a tangle in her hair from getting caught beneath a bed chasing what she'd thought was a dog, and turned out to be little more than a skittish, gold tasseled, foot stool. With a sigh she slipped out of her shoes and stumbled towards the tub. It was - as always - filled with hot, fragrant water and she had just slipped off her dress when a voice came from the direction of the fireplace.

"What are you doing?"

Belle gasped and fumbled for her clothes, whirling with a frown to see Adam sitting cross legged in front of the fire. He stared into the flames with a frown, his handsome face marred with despair. Had she fallen asleep standing up? She looked around the room, hoping almost for some of the dream like fogginess that usually accompanied her nighttime visitor.

"Adam!" She hissed, surprised at how loud her own voice was. "What are you doing here?" No. Something was wrong. He couldn't  _actually_  be here! He was just a figment of her imagination! He wasn't real! With his back to her she stooped down and fought to pull her clothes back on.

"You're hunting through the castle for something. What are you looking for?"

"Nothing! I'm just understanding more about where I am. I'm in a castle, of course I want to learn more about it!" The dirty dress felt stiff, but now clothed she made her way towards him.

"Belle, it's dangerous," He turned and held out his hand, drawing her in closer. "You could find things you shouldn't - your hands!" He looked over her filthy fingers and the frown grew more pronounced. "What were you doing that you would get so filthy? Where were you? Were you in the West Wing?"

Belle sharply pulled her hands away and covered them with her skirt. "There were books in the fireplace in one of the rooms. I was in the North wing, and I...They were the first books I've seen here. They were burned. I couldn't read them, but I tried." Her eyes stung, but she kept the tears at bay. "What...what's in the West Wing?"

"Nothing you should worry about. You did all this to yourself looking for books?" His voice had softened and the shadow of a smile was creeping up in its place."Oh Belle, that isn't..." He pulled her in close, and she gasped at the firmness of his chest and the strength in his embrace. What exactly was going on? Where was the fogginess, or the crushing pull of sleep that came with him?

"Adam?"

"I don't know what you're doing, and I'm not sure you know what you're getting into." He kissed her forehead and her stomach flopped.

"Adam, that story you told me. I just need to find - "

"A clue? Belle, please, just focus on helping Beast. He needs someone to talk to, to listen to him. He was alone with lamps and cutlery, remember? Before you came, things were much darker. Try to be kinder to him, and I think you'll be surprised." He pressed one last kiss to her hair then pushed himself up and strode out the door. She stared at it for a few moments, trying to understand why, for the first time since he'd visited her, she wasn't tired.

A week later, and Beast was bringing her, hand in paw, towards some unseen part of the castle. Adam had continued his strange, nightly visits. Each one grew more real, pushing heat over her arms and into her cheeks with every glance and touch. He stayed for less and less time, but she could feel herself growing more drawn to him. Could he be something other than a dream? Did the story he'd told her hold merit? Was there an enchanted rose somewhere in the castle? She spent her days looking for it, until Beast had cornered her as she pulled open a particularly heavy door and told her he had a present for her. He'd gently slipped a silk cloth around her eyes and then slowly and carefully guided her down hallways smelling strongly of mint and lavender, with the cold nip of freshly opened windows.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now." He grumbled, sounding pleased with himself.

She couldn't help the cry of surprise. Books!  _Books!_ She'd heard of libraries in monestaries and hidden isles, but this was beyond her wildest dreams. There were wide, swirling staircases leading to a second floor, with books wrapping around the entirety of the room. There were too many shelves to spare any room for bare walls, and the dark wood was as inviting as a hot cider. Stiff, wooden pillars supported the second story and as she turned her gaze upwards she caught sight of an exquisite mural of cherubs and angels. "What is this place?" She whispered, ignoring her shaking legs as she walked towards one of the many shelves. The leather spines drew her in.

"It's your library," Beast said. "All your own."

Thoughts of the West Wing were abandoned. Instead she made herself cozy in the library, many times falling asleep in front of the fire, tucked onto a plush chaise lounge. Several mornings she'd awoken to find herself covered with a quilt, and what looked like Beasts tail stealing out of the doors and past her sight. For weeks she spent her days seeking new books, and her nights reading to Beast over an elaborate dinner. The snow began to melt, revealing deep green blossoms half hidden in the snow. The day the first flower bloomed in the courtyard he presented her with another gift - a darling, precious rose plant rooted in a wide mouthed, pot.

"I had one of the servants clip several blossoms from the plants outside your father's home. This one took to growing on its own the fastest. I'm glad it was ready for you. I've even made you a space in the green house for the others, but this one seemed special." He said, and seemed all the more embarrassed when she threw her arms around him and embraced him.

"Oh Beast, thank you! Those plants were my mother's and I...I don't know how to thank you." He had the plant placed in her library, and for the first time in many months she was beginning to feel at home. They bonded in the library and the garden. Fueled by the magic contained in the walls and grounds, her plants bloomed magnificently. She was tending to them alone one beautiful spring day when movement in an upper window caught her eye.

What room was that? She wasn't sure, but something tugged at her heart and she left her shears, wiping the dirt from her apron as she ventured into the castle. Exploring had been set aside for companionship. Answers came second to her roses. This set of stairs was new. She climbed it cautiously, her hand a mere whisper on the banister as she wound her way up. It was quiet here, and void of movement. Even the suits of armor that lined the walls were still, and when she shook one it tumbled to the floor in a lifeless heap. Startled by the clatter, Belle ran down the hallway and entered a room to catch her breath. It looked older here, and was certainly colder. She was just beginning to wander to another room when what sounded like heavy footsteps came towards her from the far end of the wing. She hurried back down the staircase and headed straight for her room. Tomorrow was another day. The unseen wing would wait.

Called to dinner later that evening, Belle's thoughts were scattered. Why was the West wing not only forbidden to her, but abandoned by the rest of the household? There had been dust on the armor, and the sconces on the walls were cold and dark. Lifting another spoon of soup to her mouth, Belle finally caught the eye of Beast sitting on the opposite end of the table. Either she had grown used to the opulence that surrounded her, or Beast had reduced it because now she was able to appreciate the company rather than the meal and her surroundings. Normally sullen and quiet, Beast had a strange look on his face as he studied her. "Belle, I have a question for you,"

Her mouth went dry. Was he going to ask why she had been where he'd expressly forbid her from going? "Y-yes?"

"Will you marry me?" He set down his fork. Silence fell so suddenly it knocked the wind from her lungs. That, or shock.

"What..." She searched his face for a clue to what he was thinking. Marry him? Was he serious? "But...why?"

"I can't...will you marry me?"

"No Beast," Belle shook her head. Obligation for spending so much time with her? Her chest ached oddly as she pushed away from the table and stood. " I won't marry you. I'm sorry."

The following morning, Belle took her time planning her exploration. She spent the day looking elsewhere, seeking routes and glancing into the windows from the outside until the sun set. She went softly up the stairs again, past the still crumpled suit of armor, and ventured from room to room. Most had been stripped bare. One was full of covered furniture, including an enormous four poster bed. The white linen sheets filled the room with ghosts, and she lifted only two or three before making her way out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind her. Finally she reached the end of the hallway, and by not expecting much she was more than surprised when she lifted the latch and pushed open the last door to find what might have been a war zone.

Smashed furniture was everywhere. It was impossible to identify one chunk of wood from another. One wall had an enormous hole, and the fire place was a mere pile of useless bricks and stone. Fire had licked along the curtains , reducing them to charred ribbons that hung uselessly on either side of a broad, shattered window. She picked her way carefully over what had once been a table and saw a faint shimmer to her right, and glanced that way. There, suspended in mid-air atop a small, circular table and beneath a shining, glass dome...was a rose.

Belle pushed her hair out of her eyes and circled the display.  _'It's petals were as red as blood...'_ Adam's words came without warning as she approached the flower. It was exactly as he had described, although several petals lay curled and dark on the table's surface. She'd never seen anything like it. Ever so gently she lifted the glass dome and moved it to the floor. The scent of the rose struck her, and Belle reached out one pale and trembling finger to touch it. The petals were more smooth than silk, and bits of shimmering light clung to her fingers when she pulled her hand away.

"What are you doing here!" Roared the Beast suddenly, racing into the room on all fours. "Do you realize what you could have done!" He knocked her out of the way so forcefully that her head cracked against the floor. A wave of nausea fell over her as she struggled to push herself to her feet. Her vision spun, but she could see him speaking softly to the flower as he replaced the glass covering. "Get out!" He snarled. The fur along his back was bristled, and he looked suddenly larger than he ever had before. "You aren't wanted here! You aren't needed here!"

Belle didn't hesitate. She fled. She stumbled down the stairs, slipping on the bottom two when he roared again and pain stabbed at her knee as it struck the floor.

"You were forbidden!" His roar echoed through the castle even as she ran out the door and toward Phillipe's stable. Her hands slipped and fumbled as she saddled him and dragged him out of the castle grounds, then mounted and rode for the forest. Blinded by blood and sickened by fear and pain, she hardly saw where she went. Instead she trusted her horse, and knelt over his neck to sob. Would Beast kill her father now? What would happen to Adam? The story he'd told her was more than true! She'd seen the rose!

What did that mean about Beast?

A howl to her left sent a shiver of fear down her spine, and even Phillipe whirled at the sound. She sat up and glanced around, frowning at the unfamiliar trees. Where had they gone? Where was the path? "Phillipe, calm down, we just need to go the other direction..." She murmured, wiping blood from her face with the back of her hand. Her fall had split her eyebrow open, and was making seeing difficult. A howl to the right changed her mind. "Straight...straight ahead, then..." The world spun as a shape slunk into view, and it was all she could do to stay mounted. A second came, then a third, and Phillipe was running so quickly the trees became a blur. Suddenly he was whirling and kicking, and the wolves were snapping at her ankles. He reared as one snapped at his front hooves, throwing her to the ground and tangling his reigns around a crooked, low hanging branch.

"Phillipe!" She cried, stumbling to her feet and snatching up a thick, half rotted log. She swung it in an arc to strike the one that had leaped onto her defenseless horse, and although she connected another of the horrible creatures tore her weapon from her shaking hands. A third bit at her skirt, anchoring her in place as two more advanced. She let out a cry and shut her eyes, prepared for the worst, when she instead heard a yelp and a sickening crunch. The sunlight became a shadow over her face, and when she opened her eyes and looked up she found she was shielded by the immense form of the Beast.

Her heart raced in her chest like a frightened bird, and she found she couldn't move. Horrified and sickened, she watched as Beast struck against the wolves again and again. She heard the snap of their jaws and the crunch of their bones as they were tossed about like dolls. Blood blossomed thick and red across Beast's arms and paws, and his jaws were wet and slick with blood and fur. Finally injured and insulted enough the pack slunk away through the trees, leaving several of their corpses behind. He approached her slowly, and brushed her matted hair from her eyes before he cradled her in one arm.

She clung to him like a child, her fingers stroking his fur as he freed Phillipe and guided the horse back to the castle. Even as he brought her inside she pulled ever closer. The world had stopped its mad spinning, and the cut on her head had ceased bleeding into her eyes. Beast carried her into her library and settled with her on the floor, and it was only then that she saw the extent of his injuries. She made a mad dash through the castle searching for Mrs. Potts, and the kindly teapot fetched her bandages and hot water. She sought flowers for healing from the garden, and only then did she settle herself beside him to treat his wounds.

Neither spoke.

Finally, when his wounds were wrapped and she'd slunk onto a pile of pillows by the roaring fire, he gently cupped her cheek. "Thank you, Belle,"

She blushed. "You saved my life, when you should have left me to die. I shouldn't have been where I was. I'm sorry..."

"Go, sleep. You will feel better in the morning, I promise. I will not react in such a way again," She stood and nodded, her answering smile small and tight. "But Belle...you will not leave the castle again."

She only just made it to her room. Once inside the door she collapsed. Every inhale was a gasp and each exhale a sob. She could still feel the hot breath of the wolves on her throat. The blood dripping from Beast's jaws and claws as they were torn to pieces. Belle was still weeping when Adam ran in and firmly bolted the door behind him. "Shh, shh! You're safe now, you're safe." He gathered her in his arms and cradled her as she wept. "You're safe, you're safe," He crooned. Her fear and grief robbed her of her sense, but Adam carried her to the tub and gently removed her ruined clothes and bathed her.

He washed her hair and tended to her many cuts and bruises, then helped her into a simple shift and carried her to bed. "I'll let you rest now," He whispered, kissing her forehead as he laid her down.

"No!" Belle begged, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself close. "Please, Adam, stay with me tonight." She couldn't stand another night alone. The bed was too spacious; too cold. "You...you can leave before I wake, but please...stay with me..."

He nodded and moved about the room blowing out the torches, until only the glow of the embers in the fire illuminated them. "I would do whatever you ask of me, my Belle." He joined her again in the bed and the two curled together, with her head against his heart.

"Will you hold me?" His skin was warmer, almost as hot as her cheeks.

"As long as you wish it," He wrapped his arms around her, and she found she fit perfectly with her head against his chest.

"Will you kiss me?"

In reply he tilted her chin, and covered her lips with his own. Belle's hands loosely wrapped around his neck as she pulled herself closer, and he shifted so that he was above her looking down. She'd never felt desire like this before, or  _heat._ One of his hands supported his long frame above her while the other moved over the soft skin of her thigh. Belle shuddered and groaned, and her hands found themselves making fists in his hair. 

"Is it...is it too much?" Adam breathed as she trembled against him.

Hesitantly Belle loosened her grip and ran her fingers over the slope of his shoulder and the taunt muscles in his back. 

"No, no it isn't. I want...I want all of you," She cleared her throat as he pulled back and could feel heat spreading from her cheeks to somewhere far, far lower.

Her virtue was everything, of course, but...Adam wasn't real. Even if he was, she was trapped here and could never leave. Why shouldn't she take Adam as a lover? She would never give herself in that way to Beast! "It's not too much, Adam." She said again with a smile. "I swear," Then he was kissing her again, and the room was spinning. He tasted of rosewater and honey, and something sharper - something wild. His hand moved between her legs, his fingers exploring every inch of her they were allowed. He pushed her shift away, and left a trail of kisses along her jaw and down her throat.   
  
"Adam," She murmured, hardly finding a way to breathe. "Adam I -"   
  
He effectively silenced her by taking her breast into his mouth.  
  
His kisses moved lower, over the flat expanse of her belly and down the sensitive length of her hip. Belle let out a nervous, breathy laugh that ended in a cry of delight. She'd certainly never been kissed _there_ before. Her hips bucked against his mouth and before a thought could even form he was above her again, and his mouth was covering hers. Every nerve felt like it had been wrapped in lightning. His fingertips nearly left sparks in their wake. 

She'd never felt so alive. "Belle," Adam whispered, her name a plea on his lips. "It may hurt a little..." There was an unexpected pain between her legs, and both of them stilled for only a moment. Adam met Belle's eyes and she gave him a shaky smile. "I-I'm all right. Truly." She pulled herself close and gasped as he moved against her, with her, and found her hips mimicking him. They moved together then as the candles dripped low, and when they finished in the early darkness of the morning she listened to his gentle breathing and the crackling of the dying fire. Then she slept.


	9. Chapter 9

Adam was gone as she'd suspected he would be when she woke, but the bed was still warm. She stretched and looked over what had been scratches on her hands and arms, and found the skin smooth and unblemished. All in all she felt better than she ever could remember, although she had the strangest feeling that her limbs had all been pulled out of place and popped back in. Loose and warm, she took her time bathing and dressing. When she was finished she'd dressed in a darling, pink gown embroidered with intricately sewn roses. There was a generous breakfast waiting for her, and her hair was still wet when she sat down to eat. Belle was enjoying a book she'd brought to her room from the library when a knock signaled Beast's arrival.

"Good morning," She called out, setting her book aside. "How are you feeling?" She rose before he had a chance to respond, and hurried to see to his wounds. They were as remarkably healed as her own. "Much better, then?"

Beast looked out the window and nodded. "I wanted to apologize," He walked to her chair and pulled it out for her, and waited for her to sit before pushing the chair in and taking his own seat. "I frightened you, and I've been rash and unkind. I should not have...reacted...like I did to finding you in the West Wing."

Belle looked him over with a frown. "It was not my place to be there. You forbade it, and I-"

"Belle, this is your home. It's understandable that you would want to know all about it that you can. You miss your family, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." She stared down at her meal.

"I have something that might help you. Two presents, actually. I...I forgot about Christmas. Lumiere reminded me," He turned to the candle stick and lifted something from him, and passed her the parcel with a smile.

She unwrapped the beautiful, gold paper to reveal an ornate silver hand mirror. It was roughly the length of her forearm and as wide as her open hand. All around the glass the silver was twisted into the shapes of vines and flowers. Each flower was inlaid with a cluster of rubies, while the leaves were shaped emeralds. "Beast...this is beautiful, thank you. I don't understand..."

"It's magic," He said softly. "Think of who you would like to see, and you'll see them as though they were looking through the glass. Go ahead, look for Mrs. Potts," He shifted in the chair and it creaked and groaned beneath his bulk.

She thought of the kindly pot, and was startled when mist swirled and filled the surface of the glass. When it suddenly cleared, Mrs. Potts was in view. "Mrs. Potts! Oh my goodness, hello!" Yet she didn't react. She hopped about the kitchen giving soundless orders to the cutlery and pots on the stove. "Can she hear me?" Belle asked, pushing her hair behind her ears and glancing up at him.

"No, you can see them, but they won't have any knowledge you're watching them or trying to speak to them. They won't hear you. Now, your second gift." He turned to the side and leaned over, then lifted a beautiful, dark wood chest onto the table."This is also for your family. Whatever you place in this chest will appear in your home, for whoever you mean it. Come, let me show you." He stood and carried the chest to the foot of her bed. When she knelt beside it, he took a platter of the fruit and a bottle of wine from the table and lifted the lid. The inside was lined in deep, red velvet and he set both in before closing the lid. "Who would you like me to send this to?"

"For my father," She said without hesitation.

When Beast lifted the lid again the food and drink was gone. "Now, quickly, look in the glass,"

She lifted her skirts and ran for the mirror, thinking of her father's lined and weather worn face even before her fingers touched it. "Oh! Oh my goodness! I can see him!" She laughed, one hand going to cover her mouth. She couldn't let him see her lips tremble. "He's found the fruit and...oh, but why is he crying? What's that note?" As if on cue the mirror focused on the slip of paper beside the platter, and there in beautiful golden writing was her name. "Beast...I can help them. Thank you, I don't..." She set the mirror to the side and embraced him for the first time, breathing in the scents of smoke and animal. It wasn't unpleasant, but she did pull away. "Thank you."

Beast looked embarrassed, and yet his tail wagged in an almost pleased way. "You're welcome. I...I would ask something of you in return,"

Belle drew further away. Was he going to ask her to marry him again? "Y-yes?"

"Join me tonight, for dinner, and after I would have a dance with you," He grinned, showing every sharp fang in his mouth. "It is all I ask."

"I will certainly join you. Thank you again for such wonderful gifts," She hugged him again before stepping away towards the armoire. "Is there...can I send them money? Or clothes?" She pulled open the armoire to rummage within, emerging mere seconds later with her arms full of silk and tulle and gossamer fine chiffon. A heeled shoe dangled precariously from one hand. "Will the chest accept anything?"

"Yes, it will. You may send letters or food or anything you wish. However, they can't suddenly wish anything back to you." He stepped back as she became a mad flurry around the room. First she deposited the gowns and all other finery into the chest, then whirled around the room gathering everything she could think of. In went jewels and shoes and warm blankets. Then she sat down and wrote out the first letter she'd written since arriving so many months ago. She was so busy at her task that she hardly realized Beast was still standing at the door watching her, with a strange smile on his face.

"Oh! Did you...did you have something else to ask me? I'm sorry, I'm just so excited." Belle could feel her cheeks aching with a grin.

"No, I don't. I'd like you to wear your favorite gown, though. Whichever one you like the most,"

"I've actually just sent my sisters all of the nicest gowns you've given me. Is there...could I have another for tonight?" She didn't add that she'd just sent every gown in the spacious armoire, save for her old, moth-holed blue one.

"You don't even have to ask. I am glad you are comfortable enough, though." He turned to take his leave and paused. "You look...brighter, this morning. Did you sleep better?"

She hoped the blush wasn't too revealing and nodded quickly. "Yes. It was the best I've had in much too long. I think I'll spend some time in the library before dinner."

Her heart galloped in her chest as she paced in her room. She had scrubbed herself pink and curled her hair up in a tangled knot on top of her head, and was left only in her shift. While she'd bathed a mannequin had appeared, clothed in a gown more beautiful than anything she'd ever seen. The bodice looked tight, and had a bust detailed in exquisite, antique lace gold and delicate, shimmering beads that swept down from the scooped neckline towards the waist. She had lifted the large, full skirt to find a gold and champagne Chantilly lace negligee, lined with a rose motif. Crepe silk chiffon draped off-the-shoulders and blossomed into full, billowing sleeves. The spiral steel-boned corset laced at the back with gold grommets and ribbon, and just rubbing the ties between her fingers brought a smile to her face. Airy layers of tulle ruched in a high-low style over the glittery tulle underskirt, and both were trimmed in matching floral, beaded lace.

It was something a princess would wear, and she was having a very hard time putting it on.

Finally she approached the gown and lifted it from the mannequin, and laid it neatly on the bed. She changed first into the neglige, then put on the rest of the gown. It fit perfectly, and the ribbons laced themselves before she could even fumble with them. Beside the mannequin sat a pair of golden, heeled shoes and she slipped them on with a smile. For the first time, she felt like she belonged in the castle. Belle made her way from the room and down the hallway towards the sweeping staircase, where she made her way down and towards the dining room. There she found Beast waiting in a handsome, dark blue and gold doublet. His fur had been trimmed and his horns polished. She almost giggled at the sight of him trying so hard, but instead found herself blushing.

"You look beautiful," He said, coming up and bowing to her. She answered with a curtsy.

"Thank you. I've never worn anything this spectacular before," Belle could feel her knees shaking as he took her hand and kissed it. What on earth was wrong with her? This was Beast, after all. He'd kept her locked away...and given her a castle and anything she could ever want. He'd been loud and harsh, and yet he'd been humble and apologetic. He'd acted as though he would kill her...then chased after her to save her life. Beast guided her to a chair not opposite him at the large table, but beside his own.

"I'm glad you like it. I had it made specifically for you, specifically for tonight." He seated himself and the dishes lifted their lids and presented themselves. She hadn't had such a wonderful dinner with him before. His company was enjoyable, his talk pleasant. She found herself telling some of her favorite old jokes and riddles from the village, and when Beast laughed he frightened the utensils into trembling. Belle was having such a wonderful time that when the remains of their Crème brûlée and coconut cake had been cleared away, she almost forgot he'd asked her to dance.

Almost.

He took her arm and together they walked to the ballroom, where instruments had been arranged against one wall. She'd never seen anything so grandiose, and when he took her beneath the golden chandelier she was momentarily worried that they would be crushed if it fell. Beast drew her in as the first notes of the music swelled, and with one hand held firmly in his large hand - paw - and the other around her waist, her cares fell away as easily as a whisper against the gale of a storm. They moved effortlessly around the ballroom. She caught glimpses of the starry sky as they moved past the expansive, floor to ceiling windows, and leaned into his arms.

The music continued for an age, well beyond her feet hurting and exhaustion setting in. Eventually Beast guided her out of the dance with a flourish and a bow, and she laughingly returned with an exaggerated curtsy. It was then that he guided her out onto the terrace. She'd seen this part of the castle during the day, but never lit this way. Torches lit the baths, and fairy lights glittered in the brush. Overhead the moon hung low and full, and she sank onto a polished bench. "It's beautiful," She murmured. "It's...enchanting."

Beast knelt in front of her and took one hand, and she didn't immediately pull away. "Then marry me, stay here with me. The beauty is here with you, Belle. You make this place beautiful again,"

She looked up towards the stars. "This is...this is not a terrible place to be, Beast. You take care of me, and clothe me and feed me...I never want for anything..."

"You're not happy here,"

"Beast, I'm sorry. I miss my sisters and my father. I miss my home. You...you're cursed. I can't marry you until it's broken." She pulled her hand away then and frantically wiped away her tears. "Ask me again another time, but no, I cannot marry you now," She rose and pushed past him, fleeing into the castle. How many times was she going to run from him? How many times would he ask her? Taking Adam as a lover was easy enough, but could she do that and be married to the Master of the castle? Even if he was nothing more than her imagination, she couldn't have those type of delusions forever. By the time she made it back to her room she was breathless. She bolted the door and retrieved the mirror from where she'd left it after 'sending' her letter. When Belle thought of her father and his image swam into view, the tears almost started fresh.

He lay in bed with her letter, his face shining with his own sorrow. Belle peered closer and frowned, and as if reading her thoughts (which it very well might have been) the mirror focused on his face. A fever was starting. She could see it in the flush of his cheeks and the sheen on his forehead. "You'll be okay, papa. I'll send you something to help," She kissed the looking glass and crawled into bed with it, clutching it tightly to her chest. "Oh papa, why did you do this to me? Why did you send me to such a place?"

There was knocking on the door that she ignored, twice, and eventually she knew she would have no visitors. She let her sorrow fill her and run over, and wept and wept until she felt wrung dry. Only then did she sleep, and only after she'd made a firm decision. She would break the curse and free him, free all of them, or she would risk death to get home.


	10. Chapter 10

She had to find the rose.

Belle knew that it was the cornerstone of the curse, and with how Beast had been since their lovely night of dancing, she wanted to free him from it that much more. He'd been kind and gentle, and was spending days with her in the gardens. He was allowing her further and further from the castle, always accompanying her in the shadows of the thick, full trees; and when she became gravely ill one night after a meal of eels and roast beef, an illness that persisted for several days and forced her onto a diet of weak tea and crackers, he slept on the floor at the foot of her bed. He tended to her more tenderly than her own father.

So when he continued to ask for her hand, she was having a very difficult time saying no.

Adam was elusive and his visits sporadic. They spent their nights together, and while she enjoyed the intimacy she was having a much harder time actually  _feeling_  anything for him. He didn't seem to mind. While they kept each other warm, he always inquired after the Beast. He encouraged her to spend time with him. So it was with a heavy, pounding heart that she put thoughts of him aside and crept through the West Wing. Now she was on a mission, and had a plan in mind. Shivering in the darkness without a candle and without any light for guidance, she felt her way along the hallway and finally found her way into the room Beast had chased her from. The air was still. It was empty now and she made certain of it before making a beeline for the rose.

There seemed to be fewer petals now, as if it were dying. The ones lying on the table were dry and dark. Her stomach knotted painfully as she lifted the glass dome and set it aside, then glanced around once more Beast before reaching out a hand and plucking the rose from midair. It was warm in her hand, and she cradled it in her palm before slowly and gently beginning to close her fingers around it. If she destroyed it, he would be free! This was what held the curse! Belle closed her eyes and felt the bulb begin to give way when -

"No!" Beast roared from behind her, grabbing her wrist so hard she was certain she felt the bones fracture. "What are you doing? Belle, what are you doing?" She dropped the rose into his waiting paw and cradled her wounded arm. Her wrist felt like it was on fire, but it was the look on his face that struck her. She had never seen pain etched so deeply into anyone's features, and to see his eyes - of all eyes - fill with tears as he cradled the flower to his chest, she didn't understand what to do.

"I was trying to help," She whispered.

"Just go."

"Beast, please forgive me, I didn't -"

"Get  _out!_  I never should have brought you back!"

He didn't have to tell her twice. She fled from the Wing back to her room, where she threw books and food and anything she could think of into the chest. She changed out of the beautiful gown she was wearing and into the blue one she'd arrived in, patched moth holes and all, then sat on the bed and took stock of what could possibly get her home safe. It would be impossible to ride Phillipe home, and here he was much better cared for. The mirror she would take, as well as the ring that had guided her, but...her time with the castle was finished. The sound of Beast's anger finally reached her and sent a shiver down her spine.

It was then that she really saw the size of the chest. If she bent her arms just right, she could certainly close the lid over her head. So that was precisely what she did, clutching the priceless mirror to her chest as she thought of her father and her home.

So it was, when Beast broke through the door fifteen minutes later with Lumiere and Cogsworth begging at his heels, he found a cold hearth and an empty room.

* * *

"Belle, tell us again how you got away!" Pauline begged as Belle nursed their father. For more than a week she had been struggling to break his terrible fever. He cried out for her even as she ran cool water over his face, and on the few occasions he opened his eyes and saw her he merely turned his head and wept.

"The Beast told me to come home, so I did," She didn't want to get into it anymore than that. To tell them of the rose and the magic felt like she was telling a big secret. "I came the same way I sent your gifts. How long did you say he's been sick?" She rose from the bed to fetch clean water and tend to the bread she had baking. Coming home was almost more curse than blessing. She'd grown used to the elaborate, magical dinners and the friends she'd made with Mrs. Potts, Chip, and other 'members' of the castle. She missed Phillipe and her roses.

More than anything she missed Beast's quiet company.

"Since Gaston proposed, I would think," Laura supplied, twisting the engagement band on her finger. "Gaston tended to him, but it didn't help. I don't think he even wants help. I think he wants to die," Pauline shot her a look that didn't seem to matter. "You know, I think the dresses you sent us helped me to claim him as a husband. Once we were going about in them, every eye in the village looked our way. Such finery! We picked some of them apart and sold the material and gems separately. You sent us a lovely pink one, but it was so small neither of us could wear it, and Father wouldn't let us sell it," She'd been grateful to find it laid out on her bed, but was puzzled when the ribbon refused to tie around her waist. Extravagant food for so long must have added more weight than she'd previously thought.

Belle kept a near constant vigil for her father, pausing only to use the looking glass to check on Beast. Every day it was the same blank, cold, staring at the rose. Every day his eyes looked glassy and his expression bleak. Were she not in despair for her father, she would have been in despair for him. Had touching the rose hurt him? Damaged him? After a week, a knock sounded at the door that had Laura nearly screaming with delight. Gaston had arrived and seemed quite surprised to find Belle there, let alone well and seemingly happy. She spoke with him at length about the castle and Beast's kindness, answering every question he had.

When he returned a day later with medicine she knew would cure her father, she answered even more of them. As much as she wanted to, it was hard to avoid him. Laura and Pauline captured most of his attention, but when they were busy with the seamstress or visiting their friends in the village he popped up like a stubborn weed. He'd surprised her when she was doing laundry, bringing a freshly killed boar for supper. Once she'd been looking in on Beast, who was wandering about the gardens, and he'd nearly frightened her half to death with an extravagant bouquet. When her sisters arrived later in the day to find him there, Belle was certain the looks they gave her were meant to kill.

Waking just after sunrise and so sick she could barely find the window before she was heaving out of it, the pretty brunette was half convinced they'd tried. For weeks it was worse than the eels, and it was only after several months had passed that the uncomfortable and impossible truth set in. She was with child - and it could be none other than Adam's. The realization sent her scrambling for the mirror and seeking him out, yet all the mirror would show was the castle as a whole. Was he magicked into it? Was he cursed more than he'd let on? Was he a specter?

The worst of the sickness was passing when Gaston arrived one morning unannounced, well groomed and honestly more handsome than she'd ever seen him. She'd let out several of her dresses and it was clothed in one of a dove soft, grey that she opened the door. "Oh, hello again, Gaston," Belle said with a small smile. "I'm sorry, but Laura isn't here and I'm very busy this morning. Perhaps you can find her in town?"

Something in his eye told her he wouldn't just walk away.

"I'm here to see you, Belle. Are you feeling better?" His gaze sought some answer in her expression, and then he pushed past her and into the house. "Where is your father?"

"He's out," She said, wishing for Beast's hulking form at her back. She was suddenly reminded of the hungry look of the wolves as they circled her in the darkness of the forest. "You...wish to see me?"

"Yes, Belle. I've broken my engagement with your sister, and I would ask your hand in marriage." The words struck her like a slap, but for all the admiring of himself he was doing Belle didn't think he noticed. His gaze was fastened on her looking glass lying up on the table.

"Gaston! I...I don't know what to say!" She said, backing away as he advanced slowly towards her.

"Say you'll marry me," He growled, trapping her between him and the wall.

"I'm sorry, Gaston, I...I simply don't deserve y-!"

Yet his lips were uncomfortably pressed against her own, and she was pulled flush against him. She'd never felt like someone was trying to force her into affection before now, and as she struggled against his hold she realized that while one hand was around her waist and pulling her in, the other had moved to rest against the swell of her belly and he'd pulled out of the kiss. She gasped for air and trembled as his eyes lowered and his large hands moved aside her apron and smoothed the material against her. Having never done so herself, even she was surprised by how round and firm her belly had become. It was quite obvious what she was hiding beneath her gown.

"You...Belle..." 

"Gaston, please, let me explain," She begged even as she twisted out of his grip. With one hand she cradled the child growing in her womb. With the other she reached out as if beseeching. "It was an accident, I didn't even know it could happen! It was at the castle and I-"

"He did this to you, then? That...that  _Beast_  defiled you?" He slammed something on the table, a small golden ring it looked like, and snatched up her mirror. "Did you let him? Did you get lonely and need something to warm your bed?" He grasped her wrist and dragged her up the stairs and through the house until they'd arrived in her room, where he shoved her towards the bed. "No, no, I don't think you did. I think he tricked you somehow," Gaston paced back and forth, looking down at the mirror every so often.

"Gaston, no, you don't understand. I didn't even realize it was really happening! I thought it was a dream! Beast is kind and generous, and he -"

"It sounds like you have feelings for the creature! Show him to me, Belle! I've seen you looking into this thing and pining after something, and now I know what it is. Show him to me!" Gaston said, waving it in her face.  _"Show me the Beast!"_ At once the mirror lit unearthly green, and was hyper focused on the Beast's furrowed brow and enormous fangs. Belle tried to get a better look as Gaston gaped at the mirror and turned it this way and that, and could make out only that he was in her room at the castle. What was he doing?

"That's him. That's Beast," She murmured as she sat on the bed. He was pacing in front of her door - how would she run past him to safety?

"You're mine, Belle. I knew it the first time I saw you. I won't let such a thing have you. I won't harm you to get at whatever is growing inside you, but don't worry. As soon as it's born, I'll kill it myself,"

Belle leaped up with a horrified cry as Gaston slammed her door closed and secured it, with what she wasn't sure, but as much as she pulled and plead and threatened and begged it wouldn't budge. He had the mirror! He would be able to get to Beast without any problem at all. Belle anxiously wrung her hands as she looked out the window for her father or her sisters. The sun crept lower, and no amount of pushing and banging would budge the door. She was too afraid of hurting herself or her child to leap out the high window. She'd settled herself on the bed to wait and think, when the strangest thing appeared - a single, dark rose petal. It happened into being directly above her lap, then floated leisurely onto the folds of her dress.

She lifted it carefully, looking around the room for something it might have come from, but she knew. It was from Beast. It was from the rose.

And it had to be the last one.

Suddenly the need to get out was even more desperate than before. Dark clouds were rolling in to cover the cheerfulness of day, and somehow they brought a threat along with them. In no time at all dresses were strewn about the room and she was uselessly fretting as she paced. That was when she remembered the little ring hidden in her jewelry box. It slid easily onto her finger, but as much as she thought of the Beast and the castle it remained cold and mere metal. There was no guiding light to lead her. "I want to go back to him..." She murmured, twisting it anxiously as she peered out at the sky. "I want to go home."

Everything spun, the world tilted. The young woman was sure that she was about to come crashing down onto her hard, wooden floor and braced for the impact...and instead found herself upright and looking down at the rather astonished face of Mrs. Potts.

"What..."

"Mrs. Potts! Where is Beast? I have to speak with him! It's urgent!" She said, kneeling to pick up the alarmed teapot. "I don't know how I'm back, I don't know why, but I have to speak with him! Right now!"

"Y-your old room, dear. How did you arrive in the kitchen like that? Belle, wait, Belle!" Belle set her down as carefully and quickly as she could before racing down the corridor. Lightning lit the castle grounds as she ran down the familiar hallways until she arrived at her room, where she found Beast sitting in front of the chest. His fur was full of burs, and his large eyes were red. He held the stem of the rose in his hand and when she forced the door open he barely glanced at her.

"Hallucinations? Is that how it starts?" He asked himself, staring down at his terrible claws.

"No, oh no, Beast. I'm here. I'm truly here." She rushed to his side and stroked his arm, willing him to look again. "I have to talk to you, it's important."

"Then...you're here?" He cupped her cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb. "It's too late, Belle. The curse is established now. This is how things will be. Forever."

"None of that matters now. Gaston is coming here to kill you, to...to take the castle, I think. He was engaged to my sister and then he found out I was  _pregnant_  and he took the mirror, and now he's on his way here!" She rambled, her hands doing their best to prove her point. Beast's eyes had grown even wider as she spoke. "I don't know who he's coming with, or if he's coming alone, but I had to warn you. I couldn't...I couldn't let you die,"

"You're pregnant? With...with Gaston's child? You haven't been gone that long, but I suppose -"

"No, no, with...with Adam's child. I didn't think he was real, but he was or he is and..." She shook her head to force her thoughts into line. "That isn't important. What's important is that I've spent all day thinking of some way to warn you, and then I was suddenly magicked here!"

Beast grasped her hand and smiled down at the ring. "You turned it three times, didn't you?"

"What? I don't know. I didn't count,"

She opened her mouth to add to it, to spark the madness he'd displayed when defending her in the forest. Instead the castle was besieged by a god-awful banging and smashing. She heard the servants screaming and then Beast rose to his full height. He drew her to her feet and pulled her in close, and arm in arm they walked towards the window and looked out. It appeared that half the village had turned up. She saw torches blazing around the perimeter, and the glint of knives and pitchforks. The weapons glittered like stars coming through the forest. "Did Gaston say anything else? Only that he wanted me dead?" Belle couldn't look at him when she shook her head.

"He said as soon as my child was born, he'd kill it," Beast wrapped an arm around her and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. She thought she felt him trembling with rage at her side.

"Stay here and be safe. I'll get rid of him. I'll get rid of them all, and then you and I will have a talk about the curse."

* * *

An hour later and the last of the villagers had staggered off into the forest. Belle watched them from the window, wrapped in a sheet from her bed and nestled in her favorite chair. She had listened to the noise and clamor, and the doors had magicked themselves closed against intruders. They'd bowed under the force of blows and yet held firm. Beast was off protecting his home while trying not to kill the intruders, and from the sound of things the servants had helped. Lumiere spent a good twenty minutes guffawing and swearing. The fireplace had suddenly blazed to life, and she heard the stove roaring. As one last villager fled into the night washed forest, void of his trousers and what looked like scorched hair, she let the sheet fall from her shoulders and venture into the hall.

Everything was silent.

"Beast? Is he gone?" She asked, padding down the corridor. "Beast?"

She didn't see the hand that was reaching out from behind a tapestry hung against the wall, and when fingers twisted themselves in her hair and  _yanked_  she let out a blood curdling scream.

"I don't know how you got here Belle, but I guess I can use this to my advantage. I can't find him anywhere, but I'm sure the dog wants his bitch," Gaston dragged her by her hair up a flight of stairs. He ignored her as she tried to pull free and slipped, banging up her knee in the process. He pulled her along through passageways and rooms, holding a cold blade to her throat whenever he walked through a doorway.

"You came after your precious Beast, didn't you?" Gaston hissed in her ear, the blade was a quick sting of fire when he pressed too closely. "You're delusional. I should have stayed with your sister. At least she knows how to make a man feel  _wanted_."

Belle could sense Beast lingering nearby, following them silently as Gaston dragged her higher and higher. She wanted to cry out to him yet couldn't find her voice. All she was capable of doing was taking another step forward, and sending as many positive thoughts as she could to her unborn child.

"I think I've figured this out, Belle," Gaston said as he pulled her through the East Wing and across the expansive room that had once held a magic rose. All that was left of it was the table covered in dried petals. Gaston kicked the table out of his way as he pulled her out onto the balcony. Rain was coming down in sheets. It made the marble slick and she struggled to keep her footing. "That thing you're carrying will end up killing you anyway, and if I cut it from you it would be more painful. Really, Belle, this is a mercy," Then his large hand was suddenly around her throat and pushing her towards the edge. "I  _am_  sorry, Belle,"

It was then that Beast leaped from behind a twisted looking gargoyle, looking more ferocious than she'd ever seen him. Gaston whirled with knife in hand and plunged it deep into his fur, the force of his stab pulling her from the edge.

Beast roared in pain and fury before reaching forward and grasping the dark haired man by an arm and a leg. Blood poured from the wound in his side, and even in the rain she could see the splash of brightest red. "You will not touch the woman I love!" He demanded, and without any further care he threw the offending person from the balcony. Belle turned away and struggled to drown out his screams, and a blessed clap of thunder helped.

Beast stumbled to her side and dropped heavily to his knees, cradling her close as she clung to his fur. "Are you okay?" He wheezed, laying beside her on the cold, wet marble. She nodded tearfully.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Oh Beast, I'm so sorry. I love you," She wept, pressing her hands into the deep wound buried in his fur. The blood flowing over her skin was so hot her skin tingled. "Beast?"

He lay still in her arms, his eyes staring up into the clouds without seeing any of the water striking his face, or even the lightning that lit their surroundings. "Beast! No, no, please not yet! Just give me a few more minutes! Please," She sobbed, leaning over his prone body. She was so consumed by her grief that she hardly noticed the glowing until it was so bright it burned. Belle quickly pulled her hands away to block her vision from the increasing light, and gasped as his enormous form rose in the air, suspended by strings of light. She reached for him, astonishment silencing her. His face and fingers erupted with light, blinding them from view. His ragged cloak twisted around his bulky form as chips of light seemed to collapse around her like hail.

Eventually the body lowered itself back onto the balcony, and Belle crept closer. "Beast...?"

The figure stirred and pushed itself into a sitting position, and Belle's hands flew to her mouth. Adam grinned at her from a face free of fur and fang, and without another pause embraced her. "Were you still willing to marry me?" He asked, brushing away her tears. "Even without my handsome looks?"

"It really is you, isn't it? You won't disappear this time?" She touched his face, his bare chest, the strange looking scar that might have been from a sword on a larger man. "Beast...Adam...I love you. I want to be with you for as long as you'll have me,"

"It really is me, and I'm not going anywhere," He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek as she cried and laughed, then spread his hand across the round form of her belly. "That really is mine?" When she nodded again he kissed her again and gave a cry of delight, and pulled them both to their feet.

At the ceremony only a few weeks later the smiles still hadn't left their faces.

It looked to be a very happy ending for the two indeed. 


	11. Chapter 11

The wedding feast lasted for nearly a week, and for that Belle would forever be grateful. It gave her time to view the castle in a new light - full of life. The villagers returned when she and the Beast - Adam - took a carriage and Phillipe into the square to entice them. He was a marvelous story teller, and soon their ballroom was filled with joyful guests. Only two people did not enjoy themselves. Laura and Pauline. Her sisters were pale and expressionless as she and Adam exchanged their vows, even more so when Adam was crowned as the reigning monarch he had always been. Laura in particular was tight lipped and red-eyed. Belle had been the one to tell her of Gaston's death, and she appeared to take in in stride. She cried, she mourned, and she moved on.

For several months she and Adam lived quite contentedly in the castle. It seemed that when the curse was lifted, their home was transformed. Gone was the grime and the dust and the gargoyles with their hideous fangs and membranous wings. The walls were now pristine stone, polished to gleam in the sun. Borders of gold and balconies of the purest white marble stood out, and the gardens were even bursting with life and color. She learned they had a bee keeper, who had been transformed into a rather unhappy hive, and Cogsworth was the head butler. Lumiere tended to the maids more than he should have, but kept the hundreds of lights and torches throughout the castle burning without smolder or smoke. Mrs. Potts ruled in the kitchen like a war general, but was always happy and willing to share a nice, warm cup of tea. Chip was the liveliest stable boy she'd ever met, but when she inquired after his father she was met with somber faces.

Apparently broken furniture stayed broken.

Eventually Belle grew tired of traveling into town for the sole purpose of visiting her family and, not long before their child was set to arrive, she and Adam invited her father and sisters to live with her. Pauline fell into a happy routine in the castle. She was given gowns and shoes, and a room bigger than twice what Laura's had previously been. She took the carriage to town several times a week to visit with her friends but seemed happier still with the women tasked with being Belle's 'ladies-in-waiting'. They took care of her mending and plaiting her hair. They drew her baths and readied things for the baby. Two of them had been forks once, and blushed every time they looked at her. Belle did her best not to notice.

Some weeks into the arrival of her sisters, she felt a pain twist in her lower back. Mrs. Potts was convinced the baby would be arriving shortly, and confined her to bed. She'd grown large enough that traversing the gardens and tending to Phillipe was exhausting; it was nice to relax for a time. Mrs. Potts drew her a warm bath and scented it with lavender soap, promising to have someone bring her a fresh towel. Belle slid into the soothing water and sighed happily as the pains she'd been feeling faded away.

The door clicked open, and two familiar faces peered in. Laura was wearing a dress of the deepest reds, its bodice so tight it was a wonder she could breathe. Pauline's hair was loose and her cheeks pink. She twisted a handkerchief anxiously as they walked in. Laura's arms were burdened with towels. "Enjoying your bath?" Laura asked with a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Your maid said we should bring you some fresh towels." Belle frowned when her sister dropped them on the floor just inside the doorway.

"Um, yes, thank you. Her name is Mrs. Potts, you know," Belle ran her fingers through her dark hair and wondered why Pauline looked so nervous. She sat up in the bath when her eldest sister turned and locked the bedroom door, then approached the tub. "Laura, are you all right?"

Her sister swirled the frothy bubbles of the bath with her fingertips, then shook the water onto the floor. "It's all your fault, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Belle looked between her sisters and didn't like the expression on either face.

"Everything. Gaston could have given me a life. Now I'm living on your charity. You think you're so much better than either of us..." And her sister was on her.

Belle had never drowned before. She'd dove deep enough in the pools and lakes that her lungs burned, but this mindless terror was something new. Her chest ached as she fought against the two hands pushing her under, kicking and clawing at whatever she could reach until through the muffle of the water she heard Laura demand Pauline's help. Belle's mouth opened in a last, desperate plea for air and instead was rewarded with a mouthful of water. Her vision blackened, the pain receded. Her flailing slowed, then stopped.

When her sisters pulled away she bobbed to the surface like a swollen cork. The roundness of her belly pushed through the surface of the bath, and her head lolled against the side of the tub. Her lips were nearly violet, and her sightless eyes bored holes through the wall.

"Oh god, Laura, what have we done?" Pauline cried, leaping away from the tub as though it scalded her. She twisted the sodden front of her skirt, causing a small puddle of water to form at her feet.

"We have done nothing that shouldn't have been done long ago. Papa would have married us both off long ago if not for her! Gaston would still be alive! This castle would have been given back to the people, and our father might have had his business again!" Laura pressed her lips firmly together and looked away from the garish sight of her youngest sister's corpse. "She got what she deserved."

"Laura, the child? Why didn't we wait until she'd had the baby?" Pauline glanced nervously at the door as though expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

"She had relations with that... _thing!_ " Her elder sister hissed, glancing at the slick swell of her belly. "We'll say we came in and found her like this. Help me push her head under the water. It will look accidental, like...like something just caused her to drown. Maybe something went wrong with the baby and she simply died," The two sisters moved forward and pushed her beneath the surface, just as the door burst open. Adam entered at a sprint, the looking glass in one hand and a sword in the other. Cogsworth and several servants flanked him, along with a terrified Mrs. Potts.

"What have you done?" He roared, shoving the girls away. He fought to pull Belle's body from the water. "Belle! My beautiful, wonderful, Belle...no, no..." He moaned as her limp form was lifted out of the bath. "What have you done? How cold are your hearts that you would do this to your own sister?" He asked, staring down at the body of his bride.

Laura opened her mouth in defense, Pauline lifted her hands, and the room erupted with light. From the looking glass now forgotten on the floor rose a figure. Her hair tumbled in waves of gold to the floor, and her gown of emerald green seemed to twist around her feet. In her eyes was blind, vengeful fury. She pointed at Belle, who suddenly convulsed and vomited bath water. The color returned to her face as quickly as she'd died. "A-Adam?" She gasped as she reached for him. He wrapped her in his arms and turned his face away from the beautiful woman, choosing instead to comfort his wife.

"I am the sorceress who once transformed the prince," said the imposing figure. "I have noted your good heart, Belle, and taken you under my protection. These miserable ones killed you. Now I leave their fate in your hands!" It was quite clear she wanted to do nothing of the sort.

Belle begged for mercy for them, and implored that they simply return to the village, but the sorceress shook her head and said, "They must die, for you will never be safe from their malice, and as soon as they have been punished, I would speak with you and your husband. I feel I must explain myself,"

"Then do with them what you will!" sobbed Belle, holding tight to her husband. She felt ill now, looking on her family. Laura and Pauline had fallen to their knees and were sobbing and clutching one another. Yet, there was a fire in Laura's eyes that said the sorceress told the truth. She was not sorry for what she had done.

"Let them be transformed into columns and remain such until a man falls in love with them," The Sorceress said with a smile. "And that will never happen."

She touched the sisters with her hand, and they were immediately transformed into two stone columns, impossible to tell from those that supported the castle. In a blink the two were whisked away out to the garden, and thick vines of ivy twisted along their sides. Belle knew that as long as time existed, it would not occur to any man that he should fall in love with cold, heartless stones. The pain she'd felt earlier returned with a vengeance, and the young woman cried out. The sorceress turned to her with a small smile, and ushered the servants away. All who remained was Mrs. Potts and Adam, who were now risking a look at her.

Her ferocious power seemed to have faded. Belle winced again. "You...you cursed them all...why? Why would you do such a terrible thing?"

"I saw the corruption growing deeper and deeper in the heart of his mother, and knew it was beginning to blossom in the young prince. By cursing him, I spared him from her fate," The sorceress murmured something to Mrs. Potts, who hurried from the room. "Darling Belle, before you came to the castle he was trapped in the form of a Beast always," She fluffed the pillows and moved about the room lighting candles and stoking the fire. She left the smell of daisies in her wake, and a shimmer on everything she touched. "When you arrived, he was so struck by your beauty and selflessness that it quite destroyed some of my curse. Not a lot, just enough for him to gain his human appearance for several hours. Thankfully enough of it remained in that time that he was quite unable to explain who he was. I'm sure he didn't understand it at all himself,"

Mrs. Potts returned with a servant girl and a cart laden with blankets, a bowl of water, and all manner of lotions and tools. "Madam Sorceress, you are remaining?" The older woman asked, closing the door firmly behind her and opening the windows.

"Yes, Mrs. Potts. The curse I laid was much too great, and in return I offer my services as a god-mother. Beginning now," Belle glanced from the strangely beautiful woman to her husband, and couldn't stop the tears that formed. It was so much to take in all at once!

"Belle, darling, we can do this," Adam promised, kissing her gently. "You can do this," The young woman nodded and drew in a breath. 

In no time at all she was pushing, her knees drawn to her chest as she begged for an end to the pain.

When dawn crested over the hills the next morning, it was the first light for two sets of eyes. Belle lay exhausted in the bed, cleaned and clutching her son to her chest while Adam sat in a nearby chair staring down at his daughter in awe. The twins were quiet now, and a pleasant calm had settled over the room. Bird-song was the only sound to break the silence. "Well, the girl is Rose, of course," Murmured Adam as he traced the pink flush of his babe's cheeks. She stirred in his arms but did not wake. "I've never seen anything so incredible,"

Belle smiled and stroked the feather-soft curls of her son as he nursed. "Rose and...Leon, I think," She whispered, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "It's fitting." Adam chuckled and slowly stood, then walked towards the foot of the bed and laid Rose in her cradle. Belle passed Leon to him once he had finished, and the new father laid his son beside his sister. The two babes slept quite contentedly, oblivious to the horrors that had taken place merely a day before.

"I love you, Belle," Adam said as he climbed into the bed beside her.

She curled against him and laid her head on his chest, always happy to wake to find him still beside her. "I love you, Adam,"

And so they ruled in kindness and selflessness for all the years of their lives, and all was...

**Happy Forever After**


End file.
